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IN HIS STEPS 


By/ 

CHARLES M. SHELDON 


Philadelphia 

HENRY ALTEMUS 



35688 


Copyright 1899 by Henry Altemus. 


TWO CQP1F & R£CCIV£D. 



\4j5- U U S' 

iw.'b G.^q, 


9 


In His Steps. 

the service opened at eleven o'clock the large build- 
ing was filled with an audience of the best-dressed, 
most comfortable looking people of Raymond. 

The First Church of Raymond believed in hav- 
ing the best music that money could buy, and its 
quartet choir this morning was a source of great 
pleasure to the congregation. The anthem was 
inspiring. All the music was in keeping with the 
subject of the sermon. And the anthem was an 
elaborate adaptation to the most modern music of 
the hymn, 

“Jesus, I my cross have taken, 

All to leave and follow Thee.” 

Just before the sermon the soprano sang a solo, 
the well-known hymn, 

“Where He leads me I will follow, 

I’ll go with Him, with Him, all the way.” 

Rachel Winslow looked very beautiful that 
morning as she stood up behind the screen of 
carved oak which was significantly marked with the 
emblems of the cross and the crown. Her voice 
was even more beautiful than her face, and that 
meant a great deal. There was a general rustle of 
expectation over the audience as she rose. Mr. 
Maxwell settled himself contentedly behind the 
pulpit. Rachel Winslow’s singing always helped 
him. He generally arranged for a song before the 
sermon. It made possible a certain inspiration of 
feeling that made his delivery more impressive. 

People said to themselves they had never heard 
such singing even in the First Church. It is cer- 
tain that if it had not been a church service, her 
solo would have been vigorously applauded. It 


10 


In His Steps. 

even seemed to the minister when she sat down 
that something like an attempted clapping of 
hands or a striking of feet on the floor swept 
through the church. He was startled by it. As 
he rose, however, and laid his sermon on the Bible, 
he said to himself he had been deceived. Of 
course it could not occur. In a few moments he 
was absorbed in his sermon and everything else was 
forgotten in the pleasure of his delivery. 

No one had ever accused Henry Maxwell of 
being a dull preacher. On the contrary, he had 
often been charged with being sensational; not in 
what he had said so much as in his way of saying it. 
But the First Church people liked that. It gave 
their preacher and their parish a pleasant distinc- 
tion that was agreeable. 

It was also true that the pastor of the First 
Church loved to preach. He seldom exchanged. 
He was eager to be in his own pulpit when Sunday 
came. There was an exhilarating half hour for 
him as he faced a church full of people and knew 
that he had a hearing. He was peculiarly sensitive 
to variations in the attendance. He never preached 
well before a small audience. The weather also 
affected him decidedly. He was at his best before 
just such an audience as faced him now, on just 
such a morning. He felt a glow of satisfaction as 
he went on. The church was the first in the city. It 
had the best choir. It had a membership composed 
of the leading people, representatives of the wealth, 
society and intelligence of Raymond. He was 
going abroad on a three months’ vacation in the 
summer, and the circumstances of his pastorate, his 
influence and his position as pastor of the First 
Church of the city — 


11 


In His Steps. 

It is not certain that the Rev. Henry Maxwell 
knew just how he could carry on that thought in 
connection with his sermon, but as he drew near the 
end of it he knew that he had at some point in his 
delivery had all those feelings. They had entered 
into the very substance of his thought; it might 
have been all in a few seconds of time, but he had 
been conscious of defining his position and his emo- 
tions as w^ell as if he had held a soliloquy, and his 
delivery partook of the thrill of deep personal satis- 
faction. 

The sermon was interesting. It was full of 
striking sentences. They would have commanded 
attention printed. Spoken with the passion of a 
dramatic utterance that had the good taste never to 
offend with a suspicion of ranting or declamation, 
they were very effective. If the Rev. Henry Max- 
well that morning felt satisfied with the conditions 
of his pastorate, the First Church also had a simi- 
lar feeling as it congratulated itself on the presence 
in the pulpit of this scholarly, refined, somewhat 
striking face and figure, preaching with such ani- 
mation and freedom from all vulgar, noisy or dis- 
agreeable mannerism. 

Suddenly, into the midst of this perfect accord 
and concord between preacher and audience, there 
came a very remarkable interruption. It would be 
difficult to indicate the extent of the shock which 
this interruption measured. It was so unexpected, 
so entirely contrary to any thought of any person 
present that it offered no room for argument or, for 
the time being, of resistance. 

The sermon had come to a close. Mr. Maxwell 
had just turned the half of the big Bible over upon 
his manuscript and was about to sit down as the 


12 In His Steps. 

quartet prepared to arise to sing the closing selec- 
tion, 

“All for Jesus, all for Jesus, 

All my being’s ransomed powers,” 

when the entire congregation was startled by the 
sound of a man’s voice. It came from the rear of 
the church, from one of the seats under the gallery. 
The next moment the figure of a man came out of 
the shadow there and walked down the middle aisle. 
Before the startled congregation fairly realized 
what was going on the man had reached the open 
space in front of the pulpit and had turned about 
facing the people. 

“I’ve been wondering since I came in here” — 
they were the words he used under the gallery, and 
he repeated them — “if it would be just the thing to 
say a word at the close of the service. I’m not 
drunk and I’m not crazy, and I am perfectly harm- 
less, but if I die, as there is every likelihood I shall 
in a few days, I want the satisfaction of thinking 
that I said my say in a place like this, and before 
this sort of a crowd.” 

Mr. Maxwell had not taken his seat, and he now 
remained standing, leaning on his pulpit, looking 
, dowm at the stranger. It was the man who had 
come to his house the Friday before, the same 
dusty, worn, shabby-looking young man. He held 
his faded hat in his two hands. It seemed to be a 
favorite gesture. He had not been shaved and his 
hair was rough and tangled. It is doubtful if any 
one like this had ever confronted the First Church 
within the sanctuary. It was tolerably familiar 
with this sort of humanity out on the street, 
around the railroad shops, wandering up and down 


In His Steps. 13 

the avenue, but it had never dreamed of such an 
incident as this so near. 

There was nothing offensive in the man’s manner 
or tone. He was not excited and he spoke in a low 
but distinct voice. Mr. Maxwell was conscious, 
even as he stood there smitten into dumb astonish- 
ment at the event, that somehow the man’s action 
reminded him of a person he had once seen walking 
and talking in his sleep. 

No one in the house made any motion to stop the 
stranger or in any way interrupt him. Perhaps 
the first shock of his sudden appearance deepened 
into a genuine perplexity concerning what was best 
to do. However that may be, he went on as if he 
had no thought of interruption and no thought of 
the unusual element which he had introduced into 
the decorum of the First Church service. And all 
the while he was speaking, the minister leaned over 
the pulpit, his face growing more white and sad 
every moment. But he made no movement to stop 
him, and the people sat smitten into breathless 
silence. One other face, that of Rachel Winslow 
from the choir, stared white and intent down at the 
shabby figure with the faded hat. Her face was 
striking at any time. Under the pressure of the 
present unheard-of incident it was as personally 
distinct as if it had been framed in fire. 

“I’m not an ordinary tramp, though I don’t 
know of any teaching of Jesus that makes one kind 
of a tramp less worth saving than another. Do 
you ?” He put the question as naturally as if the 
whole congregation had been a small Bible class. 
He paused just a moment and coughed painfully. 
Then he went on. 

“I lost my job ten months ago. I am a printer 


14 In His Steps. 

by trade. The new linotype machines are beauti- 
ful specimens of invention, but I know six men 
who have killed themselves inside of the year just 
on account of those machines. Of course I don’t 
blame the newspapers for getting the machines. 
Meanwhile, what can a man do ? I know I never 
learned but the one trade, and that’s all I can do. 
I’ve tramped all over the country trying to find 
something. There are a good many others like me. 
I’m not complaining, am I? Just stating facts. 
But I was wondering as I sat there under the gal- 
lery, if what you call following Jesus is the same 
thing as what He taught. What did He mean when 
He said : ‘Follow me !’ The minister said,” here 
the man turned about and looked up at the pulpit, 
“that it is necessary for the disciple of J esus to fol- 
low His steps, and he said the steps are ‘obedience, 
faith, love and imitation.’ But I did not hear him 
tell you just what he meant that to mean, especially 
the last step. What do you Christians mean by 
following the steps of J esus ? 

“I’ve tramped through this city for three days 
trying to find a job; and in all that time I’ve not 
had a word of sympathy or comfort except from 
your minister here, who said he was sorry for me 
and hoped I would find a job somewhere. I sup- 
pose it is because you get so imposed on by the pro- 
fessional tramp that you have lost your interest in 
any other sort. I’m not blaming anybody, am I ? 
Just stating facts. Of course, I understand you 
can’t all go out of your way to hunt up jobs for 
other people like me. I’m not asking you to ; but 
what I feel puzzled about is, what is meant by fol- 
lowing Jesus. What do you mean when you sing 
‘I’ll go with Him, with Him all the way?’ Do 


15 


In His Steps. 

you mean that you are suffering and denying your- 
selves and trying to save lost, suffering humanity 
just as I understand Jesus did? What do you 
mean by it? I see the ragged edge of things a 
good deal. I understand there are more than five 
hundred men in this city in my case. Most of 
them have families. My wife died four months 
ago. Fm glad she is out of trouble. My little girl 
is staying with a printer’s family until I find a job. 
Somehow I get puzzled when I see so many Chris- 
tians living in luxury and singing ‘Jesus, I my 
cross have taken, all to leave and follow Thee/ and 
remember how my wife tlied in a tenement in Hew 
York city, gasping for air and asking God to take 
the little girl too. Of course I don’t expect you 
people can prevent every one from dying of starva- 
tion, lack of proper nourishment and tenement air, 
but what does following Jesus mean? I under- 
stand that Christian people own a good many of 
the tenements. A member of a church was the 
owner of the one where my wife died, and I have 
wondered if following Jesus all the way was true in 
his case. I heard some people singing at a church 
prayer meeting the other night, 

‘All for Jesus, all for Jesus, 

All my being’s ransomed powers. 

All my thoughts, and all my doings, 

All my days, and all my hours,’ 

and I kept wondering as I sat on the steps outside 
just what they meant by it. It seems to me there’s 
an awful lot of trouble in the world that somehow 
wouldn’t exist if all the people who sing such songs 
went and lived them out. I suppose I don’t under- 
stand. But what would Jesus do? Is that what 


16 


In His Steps. 

yon mean by following His steps ? It seems to me 
sometimes as if the people in the big churches had 
good clothes and nice houses to live in, and money 
to spend for luxuries, and could go away on sum- 
mer vacations and all that, while the people outside 
the churches, thousands of them, I mean, die in 
tenements, and walk the streets for jobs, and never 
have a piano or a picture in the house, and grow up 
in misery and drunkenness and sin.” 

The man suddenly gave a queer lurch over in the 
direction of the communion table and laid one 
grimy hand on it. His hat fell upon the carpet at 
his feet. A stir went through the congregation. 
Hr. West half rose from his pew, but as yet the si- 
lence was unbroken by any voice or movement 
worth mentioning in the audience. The man 
passed his other hand across his eyes, and then, 
without any warning, fell heavily forward on his 
face, full length, up the aisle. Henry Maxwell 
spoke : 

“We will consider the service closed.” 

He was down the pulpit stairs and kneeling by 
the prostrate form before any one else. The audi- 
ence instantly rose and the aisles were crowded. 
Dr. West pronounced the man alive. He had 
fainted away. “Some heart trouble,” the doctor 
also muttered as he helped carry him out into the 
pastor’s study. 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER II. 

Henry Maxwell and a group of his church mem- 
bers remained some time in the study. The man 
lay on the couch there and breathed heavily. When 
the question of what to do with him came up, the 
minister insisted on taking the man to his own 
house; he lived near by and had an extra room. 
Rachel Winslow said: 

“Mother has no company at present. I am sure 
we would be glad to give him a place with us.” 

She looked strongly agitated. Ho one noticed 
it particularly. They were all excited over the 
strange event, the strangest that First Church 
people could remember. But the minister insisted 
on taking charge of the man, and when a carriage 
came the unconscious but living form was carried 
to his house; and with the entrance of that hu- 
manity into the minister’s spare room a new chap- 
ter in Henry Maxwell’s life began, and yet no one, 
himself least of all, dreamed of the remarkable 
change it was destined to make in all his after 
definition of the Christian discipleship. 

The event created a great sensation in the First 
Church parish. People talked of nothing else for a 
week. It was the general impression that the man 
had wandered into the church in a condition of 
mental disturbance caused by his troubles, and that 
all the time he was talking he was in a strange de- 
lirium of fever and really ignorant of his surround- 
ings. That was the most charitable construction 
to put upon his action. It was the general agree- 


18 In His Steps. 

ment also that there was a singular absence of any- 
thing bitter or complaining in what the man had 
said. He had, throughout, spoken in a mild, apolo- 
getic tone, almost as if he were one of the congre- 
gation seeking for light on a very difficult sub- 
ject. 

The third day after his removal to the minister’s 
house there was a marked change in his condition. 
The doctor spoke of it but offered, no hope. Satur- 
day morning he still lingered, although he had 
rapidly failed as the week drew near its close. 
Sunday morning, just before the clock struck one, 
he rallied and asked if his child had come. The 
minister had sent for her at once as soon as he had 
been able to secure her address from some letters 
found in the man’s pocket. He had been conscious 
and able to talk coherently only a few moments 
since his attack. 

“The child is coming. She will he here,” Mr. 
Maxwell said as he sat there, his face showing 
marks of the strain of the week’s vigil; for he had 
insisted on sitting up nearly every night. 

“I shall never see her in this world,” the man 
whispered. Then he uttered with great difficulty 
the words, “You have been good to me. Somehow 
I feel as if it was what Jesus would do.” 

After a few minutes he turned his head slightly, 
and before Mr. Maxwell could realize the fact, the 
doctor said quietly, “He is gone.” 

The Sunday morning that dawned on the city 
of Raymond was exactly like the Sunday of a week 
before. Mr. Maxwell entered his pulpit to face one 
of the largest congregations that had ever crowded 
the First Church. He was haggard and looked as 
if he had just risen from a long illness. His wife 


19 


\ 

In His Steps. 

was at home with the little girl, who had come on 
the morning train an hour after her father had 
died. He lay in that spare room, his troubles over, 
and the minister could see the face as he opened 
the Bible and arranged his different notices on the 
side of the desk as he had been in the habit of doing 
for ten years. 

The service that morning contained a new ele- 
ment. No one could remember when Henry Max- 
well had preached in the morning without notes. 
As a matter of fact he had done so occasionally 
when he first entered the ministry, but for a long 
time he had carefully written every word of his 
morning sermon, and nearly always his evening 
discourses as well. It cannot be said that his ser- 
mon this morning was striking or impressive. He 
talked with considerable hesitation. It was evident 
that some great idea struggled in his thought for 
utterance, but it was not expressed in the theme he 
had chosen for his preaching. It was near the close 
of his sermon that he began to gather a certain 
strength that had been painfully lacking af the 
beginning. 

He closed the Bible and, stepping out at the side 
of the desk, faced his people and began to talk to 
them about the remarkable scene of the week be- 
fore. 

“Our brother,” somehow the words sounded a 
little strange coming from his lips, “passed away 
this morning. I have not yet had time to learn all 
his history. He had one sister living in Chicago. 
I have written her and have not yet received an 
answer. His little girl is with us and will remain 
for the time.” 

He paused and looked over the house. He 


20 


In His Steps. 

thought he had never seen so many earnest faces 
during his entire pastorate. He was not able yet 
to tell his people his experiences, the crisis through 
which he was even now moving. But something of 
his feeling passed from him to them, and it did not 
seem to him that he was acting under a careless 
impulse at all to go on and break to them this 
morning something of the message he bore in his 
heart. 

So he went on: 

“The appearance and words of this stranger in 
the church last Sunday made a very powerful im- 
pression on me. I am not able to conceal from 
you or myself the fact that what he said, followed 
as it has been by his death in my house, has com- 
pelled me to ask as I never asked before, ‘What 
does following Jesus mean?* I am not in a posi- 
tion yet to utter any condemnation of this people 
or, to a certain extent, of myself, either in our 
Christ-like relations to this man or the numbers 
that he represents in the world. But all that does 
not prevent me from feeling that much that the 
man said was so vitally true that we must face it 
in an attempt to answer it or else stand condemned 
as Christian disciples. A good deal that was said 
here last Sunday was in the nature of a challenge 
to Christianity as it is seen and felt in our churches. 
I have felt this with increasing emphasis every day 
since. 

“And I do not know that any time is more ap- 
propriate than the present for me to propose a 
plan, or a purpose, which has been forming in my 
mind as a satisfactory reply to much that was said 
here last Sunday.” 

Again Henry Maxwell paused and looked into 


21 


In His Steps. 

the faces of his people. There were some strong, 
earnest men and women in the First Church. 

He could see Edward Norman, editor of the Ray- 
mond Daily News. He had been a member of the 
First Church for ten years. 

No man was more honored in the community. 
There was Alexander Powers, superintendent of 
the great railroad shops in Raymond, a typical 
railroad man, one who had been born into the busi- 
ness. There sat Donald Marsh, president of Lin- 
coln College, situated in the suburbs of Raymond. 
There was Milton Wright, one of the great mer- 
chants of Raymond, having in his employ at least 
one hundred men in various shops. There was 
Dr. West who, although still comparatively young, 
was quoted as authority in special surgical cases. 
There was young J asper Chase the author, who had 
written one successful book and was said to be at 
work on a new novel. There was Miss Virginia 
Page the heiress, who through the recent death 
of her father had inherited a million at least, and 
was gifted with unusual attractions of person and 
intellect. And not least of all, Rachel Winslow, 
from her seat in the choir, glowed with her pecu- 
liar beauty of light this morning because she was 
so intensely interested in the whole scene. 

There was some reason, perhaps, in view of such 
material in the First Church, for Henry Maxwell's 
feeling of satisfaction whenever he considered his 
parish as he had the previous Sunday. There was 
an unusually large number of strong, individual 
characters who claimed membership there. But 
as he noted their faces this morning he was simply 
wondering how many of them would respond to 
the strange proposition he was about to make. He 

2 


22 


In His Steps. 

continued slowly, taking time to choose his words 
carefully, and giving the people an impression they 
had never felt before, even when he was at his best 
with his most dramatic delivery. 

“What I am going to propose now is something 
which ought not to appear unusual or at all im- 
possible of execution. Yet I am aware that it will 
be so regarded by a large number, perhaps, of the 
members of this church. But in order that we 
may have a thorough understanding of what we 
are considering, I will put my proposition very 
plainly, perhaps bluntly. I want volunteers from 
the First Church who will pledge themselves, ear- 
nestly and honestly for an entire year, not to do 
anything without first asking the question, ‘What 
would J esus do V And after asking that question, 
each one will follow Jesus as exactly as he knows 
how, no matter what the result may be. I will of 
course include myself in this company of volun- 
teers, and shall take for granted that my church 
here will not be surprised at my future conduct, 
as based upon this standard of action, and will not 
oppose whatever is done if they think Christ would 
do it. Have I made my meaning clear? At the 
close of the service I want all those members who 
are willing to join such a company to remain, and 
we will talk over the details of the plan. Our mot- 
to will be, ‘What would J esus do V Our aim will 
be to act just as He would if He was in our places, 
regardless of immediate results. In other words, 
we propose to follow Jesus’ steps as closely and as 
literally as we believe He taught His disciples to 
do. And those who volunteer to do this will 
pledge themselves for an entire year, beginning 
with to-day, so to act.” 


23 


In His Steps. 

Henry Maxwell paused again and looked out 
over his people. It is not easy to describe the sen- 
sation that such a simple proposition apparently 
made. Men glanced at one another in astonish- 
ment. It was not like Henry Maxwell to define 
Christian discipleship in this way. There was evi- 
dent confusion of thought over his proposition. It 
was understood well enough, but there was, ap- 
parently, a great difference of opinion as to the 
application of Jesus’ teaching and example. 

He calmly closed the service with a brief prayer. 
The organist began his postlude immediately after 
the benediction and the people began to go out. 
There was a great deal of conversation. Animated 
groups stood all over the church discussing the 
minister’s proposition. It was evidently provoking 
great discussion. After several minutes he asked 
all who expected to remain to pass into the lecture- 
room which joined the large room on the side. He 
was himself detained at the front of the church 
talking with several persons' there, and when he 
finally turned around, the church was empty. He 
walked over to the lecture-room entrance and went 
in. He was almost startled to see the people who 
were there. He had not made up his mind about 
any of his members, but he had hardly expected 
that so many were ready to enter into such a literal 
testing of their Christian discipleship as now 
awaited him. There were perhaps fifty present, 
among them Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page, 
Mr. Norman, President Marsh, Alexander Powers 
the railroad superintendent, Milton Wright, Dr. 
West and Jasper Chase. 

He closed the door of the lecture-room and went 
and stood before the little group. His face was 


24 


In His Steps. 

pale and his lips trembled with emotion. It was 
to him a genuine crisis in his own life and that of 
his parish. No man can tell until he is moved by 
the Divine Spirit what he may do, or how he may 
change the current of a lifetime of fixed habits of 
thought and speech and action. Henry Maxwell 
did not, as we have said, yet know himself all that 
he was passing through, but he was conscious of 
a great upheaval in his definition of Christian dis- 
cipleship, and he was moved with a depth of feel- 
ing he could not measure as he looked into the 
faces of those men and women on this occasion. 

It seemed to him that the most fitting word to be 
spoken first was that of prayer. He asked them 
all to pray with him. And almost with the first 
syllable he uttered there was a distinct presence of 
the Spirit felt by them all. As the prayer went on, 
this presence grew in power. They all felt it. 
The room was filled with it as plainly as if it had 
been visible. When the prayer closed there was a 
silence that lasted several moments. All the heads 
were bowed. Henry Maxwell’s face was wet with 
tears. If an audible voice from heaven had sanc- 
tioned their pledge to follow the Master’s steps, 
not one person present could have felt more cer- 
tain of the divine blessing. And so the most seri- 
ous movement ever started in the First Church of 
Raymond was begun. 

“We all understand,” said he, speaking very 
quietly, “what we have undertaken to do. We 
pledge ourselves to do every thing in our daily lives 
after asking the question ‘What would Jesus do?’ 
regardless of what may he the Result to us. Some 
time I shall be able to tell you what a marvelous 
change has come over my life within a week’s time. 


25 


In His Steps. 

I cannot now. But the experience I have been 
through since last Sunday has left me so dissatisfied 
with my previous definition of Christian disciple- 
ship that I have been compelled to take this ac- 
tion. I did not dare begin it alone. I know that 
I am being led by the hand of divine love in all 
this. The same divine impulse must have led you 
also. 

“Do we understand fully what we have under- 
taken?” 

“I want to ask a question,” said Rachel Wins- i 
low. Every one turned towards her. Her face 
glowed with a beauty that no physical loveliness 
could ever create. 

“I am a little in doubt as to the source of our 
knowledge concerning what Jesus would do. Who 
is to decide for me just what He would do in my 
case? It is a different age. There are many per- 
plexing questions in our civilization that are not 
mentioned in the teachings of Jesus. How am I 
going to tell what He would do?” 

“There is no way that I know of,” replied the 
pastor, “except as we study Jesus through the me- 
dium of the Holy Spirit. You remember what 
Christ said speaking to His disciples about the 
Holy Spirit: ‘Howbeit when He the spirit of truth 
is come, He shall guide you into all the truth ; for 
He shall not speak from Himself; but what things 
soever He shall hear, there shall He speak; and 
He shall declare unto you the things that are to 
come. He shall glorify me; for He shall take of 
mine and declare it unto you. All things whatso- 
ever the Father hath are mine; therefore said I, 
that He taketh of mine and shall declare it unto 
you.’ There is no other test that I know of. We 


26 


In His Steps. 

shall all have to decide what Jesus would do after 
going to that source of knowledge.” 

“What if others say of us, when we do certain 
things, that Jesus would not do so?” asked the 
superintendent of railroads. 

“We cannot prevent that. But we must he ab- 
solutely honest with ourselves. The standard of 
Christian action cannot vary in most of our acts.” 

“And yet what one church member thinks Jesus 
would do, another refuses to accept as His probable 
course of action. What is to render our conduct 
uniformly Christ-like? Will it be possible to reach 
the same conclusions always in all cases?” asked 
President Marsh. 

Mr. Maxwell was silent some time. Then he an- 
swered, “Ho; I don’t know that we can expect 
that. But when it comes to a genuine, honest, en- 
lightened following of Jesus’ steps, I cannot believe 
there will be any confusion either in our own minds 
or in the judgment of others. We must be free 
from fanaticism on one hand and too much caution 
on the other. If Jesus’ example is the example 
for the world to follow, it certainly must be feasible 
to follow it. But we need to remember this great 
fact. After we have asked the Spirit to tell us 
what Jesus would do and have received an answer 
to it, we are to act regardless of the results to our- 
selves. Is that understood?” 

All the faces in the room were raised towards 
the minister in solemn assent. There was no mis- 
understanding that proposition. Henry Maxwell’s 
face quivered again as he noted the president of 
the Endeavor Society with several members seated, 
back of the older men and women. 

They remained a little longer talking over de- 


27 


In His Steps. 

tails and asking questions, and agreed to report to 
one another every week at a regular meeting the 
result of their experiences in following Jesus this 
way. Henry Maxwell prayed again. And again 
as before the Spirit made Himself manifest. Every 
head remained bowed a long time. They went 
away finally in silence. There was a feeling that 
prevented speech. The pastor shook hands with 
them all as they went out. Then he went into his 
own study room hack of the pulpit and kneeled. 
He remained there alone nearly half an hour. 
When he went home he went into the room where 
the dead body lay. As he looked at the face he 
cried in his heart again for strength and wisdom. 
But not even yet did he realize that a movement 
had begun which would lead to the most remark- 
able series of events that the city of Raymond had 
ever known. 


28 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER III. 

“He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also 
to walk even as he walked.” 

Edward Norman, editor of the Raymond Daily 
News , sat in his office room Monday morning and 
faced a new world of action. He had made his 
pledge in good faith to do every thing after asking, 
“What would Jesus do?” and, as he supposed, 
with his eyes open to all the possible results. But 
as the regular life of the paper started on another 
week’s rush and whirl of activity, he confronted 
it with a degree of hesitation and a feeling nearly 
akin to fear. 

He had come down to the office very early, and 
for a few minutes was by himelf. He sat at his 
desk in a growing thoughtfulness that finally be- 
came a desire which he knew was as great as it 
was unusual. He had yet to learn, with all the 
others in that little company pledged to do the 
Christlike thing, that the Spirit of Life was mov- 
ing in power through his own life as never before. 
He rose and shut his door, and then did what he 
had not done for years. He kneeled down by his 
desk and prayed for the Divine Presence and wis- 
dom to direct him. 

He rose with the day before him, and his prom- 
ise distinct and clear in his mind. “Now for ac- 
tion,” he seemed to say. But he would be led by 
events as fast as they came on. 

He opened his door and began the routine of the 


1 


In His Steps. 29 

office work. The managing editor had just come 
in and was at his desk in the adjoining room. One 
of the reporters there was pounding out something 
on a typewriter. Edward Norman began to write 
an editorial. The Daily News was an evening 
paper, and Norman usually completed his leading 
editorial before nine o’clock. 

He had been writing for fifteen minutes when 
the managing editor called out : 

“Here’s this press report of yesterday’s prize 
fight at the Resort. It will make up three columns 
and a half. I suppose it all goes in ?” 

Norman was one of those newspaper men who 
keep an eye on every detail of the paper. The man- 
aging editor always consulted his chief in matters 
of both small and large importance. Sometimes, 
as in this case, it was merely a nominal inquiry. 

“Yes — No. Let me see it.” 

He took the type- written matter just as it came 
from the telegraph editor and ran over it carefully. 
Then he laid the sheets down on his desk and did 
some very hard thinking. 

“We won’t run this to-day,” he said finally. 

The managing editor was standing in the door- 
way between the two rooms. He was astounded at 
his chief’s remark, and thought he had perhaps 
misunderstood him. 

“What did you say?” 

“Leave it out. We won’t use it.” 

“But — ” The managing editor was simply dum- 
founded. He stared at Norman as if the man was 
out of his mind. 

“I don’t think, Clark, that it ought to be printed, 
and that’s the end of it,” said Norman, looking up 
from his desk. 


30 


In His Steps. 

Clark seldom had any words with the chief. 
His word had always been law in the office and he 
had seldom been known to change his mind. The 
circumstances now, however, seemed to be so ex- 
traordinary that Clark could not help expressing 
himself. 

“Do you mean that the paper is to go to press 
without a word of the prize fight in it ?” 

“Yes. That’s what I mean.” 

“But it’s unheard of. All the other papers will 
print it. What will our subscribers say ? Why, it 
is simply — ” Clark paused, unable to find words 
to say what he thought. 

Norman looked at Clark thoughtfully. The 
managing editor was a member of a church of a 
different denomination from that of Norman’s. 
The two men had never talked together on relig- 
ious matters although they had been associated on 
the paper for several years. 

“Come in here a minute, Clark, and shut the 
door,” said Norman. 

Clark came in and the two men faced each other 
alone. Norman did not speak for a minute. Then 
he said abruptly : 

“Clark, if Christ was editor of a daily paper, 
do you honestly think He would print three col- 
umns and a half of prize fight in it?” 

“No, I don’t suppose He would.” 

“Well, that’s my only reason for shutting this ac- 
count out of the News. I have decided not to do a 
thing in connection with the paper for a whole 
year that I honestly believe Jesus would not do.” 

Clark could not have looked more amazed if the 
chief had suddenly gone crazy. In fact, he did 
think something was wrong, though Mr. Norman 


31 


In His Steps. 

was one of the last men in the world, in his judg- 
ment, to lose his mind. 

"What effect will that have on the paper ?” he 
finally managed to ask in a faint voice. 

"What do you think?” asked Norman with a 
keen glance. 

"I think it will simply ruin the paper,” replied 
Clark promptly. He was gathering up his bewil- 
dered senses, and began to remonstrate. "Why, 
it isn’t feasible to run a paper nowadays on any 
such basis. It’s too ideal. The world isn’t ready 
for it. You can’t make it pay. Just as sure as you 
live, if you shut out this prize fight report you will 
lose hundreds of subscribers. It doesn’t take a 
prophet to see that. The very best people in town 
are eager to read it. They know it has taken place, 
and when they get the paper this evening they will 
expect half a page at least. Surely, you can’t af- 
ford to disregard the wishes of the public to such 
an extent. It will be a great mistake if you do, in 
my opinion.” 

Norman sat silent a minute. Then he spoke 
gently but firmly. 

"Clark, what in your honest opinion is the right 
standard for determining conduct? Is the only 
right standard for every one, the probable action 
of Jesus Christ? Would you say that the highest, 
best law for a man to live by was contained in ask- 
ing the question, ‘What would Jesus do?’ And 
then doing it regardless of results ? In other words, 
do you think men everywhere ought to follow 
Jesus’ example as closely as they can in their daily 
lives ?” Clark turned red, and moved uneasily in 
his chair before he answered the editor’s question. 

"Why — -yes — I suppose if you put it on the 


32 


In His Steps. 

ground of what men ought to do there is no other 
standard of conduct. But the question is, What is 
feasible? Is it possible to make it pay? To suc- 
ceed in the newspaper business we have got to con- 
form to custom and the recognized methods of so- 
ciety. We can't do as we would in an ideal world.” 

“Do you mean that we can’t run the paper 
strictly on Christian principles and make' it suc- 
ceed?” 

“Yes, that’s just what I mean. It can’t be done. 
We’ll go bankrupt in thirty days.” 

Norman did not reply at once. He was very 
thoughtful. 

“We shall have occasion to talk this over again, 
Clark. Meanwhile I think we ought to understand 
each other frankly. I have pledged myself for a 
year to do everything connected with the paper 
after answering the question, ‘What would Jesus 
do?’ as honestly as possible. I shall continue to 
do this in the belief that not only can we succeed, 
but that we can succeed better than we ever did.” 

Clark rose. “The report does not go in ?” 

“It does not. There is plenty of goodgmaterial 
to take its place, and you know what it is.” 

Clark hesitated. “Are you going to say any- 
thing about the absence of the report ?” 

“No, let the paper go to press as if there had 
been no such thing as a prize fight yesterday.” 

Clark walked out of the room to his own desk 
feeling as if the bottom had dropped out of every- 
thing. He was astonished, bewildered, excited and 
considerably angered. His great respect for Nor- 
man checked his rising indignation and disgust, 
but with it all was a feeling of growing wonder at 
the sudden change of motive which had entered 


In His Steps. 33 

the office of the Daily News and threatened, as he 
firmly believed, to destroy it. 

Before noon every reporter, pressman and em- 
ployee on the Daily News was informed of the re- 
markable fact that the paper was going to press 
without a word in it about the famous prize fight 
of Sunday. The reporters were simply astonished 
beyond measure at the announcement of the fact. 
Every one in the stereotyping and composing 
rooms had something to say about the unheard of 
omission. Two or three times during the day 
when Mr. Norman had occasion to visit the com- 
posing rooms the men stopped their work or 
glanced around their cases looking at him curi- 
ously. He knew that he was being observed 
strangely, but said nothing and did not appear to 
note it. 

There had been several minor changes in the pa- 
per, suggested by the editor, but nothing marked. 
He was waiting and thinking deeply. 

He felt as if he needed time and considerable 
opportunity for the exercise of his best judgment 
in several matters before he answered his ever pres- 
ent question in the right way. It was not because 
there were not a great many things in the life of 
the paper that were contrary to the spirit of Christ 
that he did not act at once, but because he was 
yet honestly in doubt concerning what action Jesus 
w'ould take. 

When the Daily News came out that evening it 
carried to its subscribers a distinct sensation. 

The presence of the report of the prize fight 
could not have produced anything equal to the 
effect of its omission. Hundreds of men in the 
hotels and stores down town, as well as regular 


34 


In His Steps. 

subscribers, eagerly opened the paper and searched 
it through for the account of the great fight; not 
finding it, they rushed to the news stands and 
bought other papers. Even the newsboys had not 
all understood the fact of omission. One of them 
was calling out “Daily News! Full 'count great 
prize fight 't Resort. News , sir !" 

A man on the corner of the avenue close by the 
News office bought the paper, looked over its front 
page hurriedly and then angrily called the boy 
back. 

“Here, boy ! What's the matter with your paper ? 
There's no prize fight h§re ! What do you mean 
by selling old papers ?" 

“Old papers nuthin’ !" replied the boy indig- 
nantly. “Dat's to-day's paper. What's de matter 
wid you?" 

“But there is no account of the prize fight here ! 
Look !" 

The man handed back the paper and the boy 
glanced at it hurriedly. Then he whistled, while 
a bewildered look crept over his face. Seeing 
another boy running by with papers he called out 
“Say, Sam, le’me see your pile !" A hasty exam- 
ination revealed the remarkable fact that all the 
copies of the News were silent on the subject of the 
prize fight. 

“Here, give me another paper!" shouted the 
customer ; “one with the prize fight account." 

He received it and walked off, while the two 
boys remained comparing notes and lost in wonder 
at the result. “Sump’n slipped a cog in the Newsy 
sure," said the first boy. But he couldn’t tell why, 
and ran over to the News office to find out. 

There were several other boys at the delivery 


35 


In His Steps. 

room and they were all excited and disgusted. The 
amount of slangy remonstrance hurled at the 
clerk back of the long counter would have driven 
any one else to despair. 

He was used to more or less of it all the time, 
and consequently hardened to it. Mr. Norman 
was just coming downstairs on his way home, and 
he paused as he went by the door of the delivery 
room and looked in. 

“What’s the matter here, George ?” he asked the 
clerk as he noted the unusual confusion. 

“The boys say they can’t sell any copies of the 
News to-night because the prize fight isn’t in it,”' 
replied George, looking curiously at the editor as 
so many of the employees had done during the day. 
Mr. Norman hesitated a moment, then walked into 
the room and confronted the boys. 

“How many papers are there here ? Boys, count 
them out, and I’ll buy them to-night.” 

There was a combined stare and a wild counting 
of papers on the part of the boys. 

“Give them their money, George, and if any of 
the other boys come in with the same complaint 
buy their unsold copies. Is that fair?” he asked 
the boys who were smitten into unusual silence by 
the unheard of action on the part of the editor. 

“Fair ! Well, I should — But will you keep this 
up? Will dis be a continual performance for de 
benefit of de fraternity?” 

Mr. Norman smiled slightly but he did not think 
it was necessary to answer the question. 

He walked out of the office and went home. On 
the way he could not avoid that constant query, 
“Would Jesus have done it?” It was not so much 
with reference to this last transaction as to the 


36 In His Steps. 

entire motive that had urged him on since he had 
made the promise. 

The newsboys were necessarily sufferers through 
the action he had taken. Why should they lose 
money by it? They were not to blame. He was 
a rich man and could afford to put a little bright- 
ness into their lives if he chose to do it. He be- 
lieved, as he went on his way home, that Jesus 
would have done either what he did or something 
similar in order to be free from any possible feeling 
of injustice. 

He was not deciding these questions for any one 
else but for his own conduct. He was not in a 
position to dogmatize, and he felt that he could 
answer only his own judgment and conscience as 
to his interpretation of his Master’s probable ac- 
tion. The falling off in sales of the paper he had 
in a measure foreseen. But he was yet to realize 
the full extent of the loss to the paper, if such a 
policy should be continued. 


In His Steps. 


37 


CHAPTER IV. 

During the week he was in receipt of numerous 
letters commenting on the absence from the News 
of the account of the prize fight. Two or three of 
these letters may be of interest. 

Editor of the News. 

Dear Sir: I have been thinking for some time of 
changing my paper. I want a journal that is up to 
the times, progressive and enterprising, supplying the 
public demand at all points. The recent freak of 
your paper in refusing to print the account of the fa- 
mous contest at the Resort has decided me finally to 
change my paper. Please discontinue it. 

Very truly yours, . 

Here followed the name of a business man who 
had been a subscriber for many years. 

Edward Norman , 

Editor of the Daily News , Raymond. 

Dear Ed: What is this sensation you have given the 
people of your burg? What new policy have you 
taken up? Hope you don’t intend to try the “Reform 
Business” through the avenue of the press. It’s dan- 
gerous to experiment much along that line. Take my 
advice and stick to the enterprising modern methods 
you have made so successful for the News. The pub- 
lic wants prize fights and such. Give it what it wants 
and let some one else do the Reforming business. 

Yours, . 

Here followed the name of one of Norman’s old 
friends, the editor of a daily in an adjoining town. 

3 


38 


In His Steps. 

My Dear Mr. Norman: 

I hasten to write you a note of appreciation for the 
evident carrying out of your promise. It is a splen- 
did beginning and no one feels the value of it more 
than I do. I know something of what it will cost you, 
but not all. Your pastor, 

Henry Maxwell. 


One other letter which he 'opened immediately 
after reading this from Maxwell revealed to him 
something of the loss to his business that possibly 
awaited him. 

Mr. Edward Norman, 

Editor of the Daily News. 

Dear Sir: At the expiration of my advertising limit 
you will do me the favor not to continue it as you 
have done heretofore. I inclose check for payment 
in full and shall consider my account with your paper 
closed after date. 

Very truly yours, . 


Here followed the name of one of the largest 
dealers in tobacco in the city. He had been in the 
habit of inserting a column of conspicuous adver- 
tising and paying for it a very large price. 

Norman laid this letter down thoughtfully, and 
then after a moment he took up a copy of his paper 
and looked through the advertising columns. There 
was no connection implied in the tobacco mer- 
chant's letter between the omission of the prize 
fight and the withdrawal of the advertisement, but 
he could not avoid putting the two together. In 
point of fact, he afterward learned that the tobacco 
dealer withdrew his advertisement because he had 
heard that the editor of the News was about to 


In His Steps. 39 

enter upon some queer reform policy that would be 
certain to reduce its subscription list. 

But the letter directed Norman’s attention to the 
advertising phase of his paper. He had not con- 
sidered this before. 

As he glanced over the columns he could not 
escape the conviction that his Master could not per- 
mit some of them in his paper. 

What would He do with that other long adver- 
tisement of choice liquors and cigars ? As a mem- 
ber of a church and a respected citizen, he had in- 
curred no special censure because the saloon men ~ 
advertised in his columns. No one thought any- 
thing about it. It was all legitimate business. 
Why not? Raymond enjoyed a system of high li- 
cense, and the saloon and the billiard hall and the 
beer garden were a part of the city’s Christian 
civilization. He was simply doing what every other 
business man in Raymond did. And it was one of 
the best paying sources of revenue. What would 
the paper do if it cut these out? Could it live? 
That was the question. But — was that the ques- 
tion after all? “What would Jesus do?” That 
was the question he was answering, or trying to 
answer, this week. Would Jesus advertise whisky 
and tobacco in his paper? 

Edward Norman asked it honestly, and after a 
prayer for help and wisdom he asked Clark to come 
into the office. 

Clark came in, feeling that the paper was at a 
crisis, and prepared for almost anything after his 
Monday morning experience. This was Thursday. 

“Clark,” said Norman, speaking slowly and 
carefully, “I have been looking at our advertising 
columns and have decided to dispense with some of 


40 


In His Steps. 

the matter as soon as the contracts run out. I 
wish you would notify the advertising agent not to 
solicit or renew the ads that I have marked here.” 

He handed the paper with the marked places 
•over to Clark, who took it and looked over the col- 
umns with a very serious air. 

“This will mean a great loss to the News. How 
long do you think you can keep this sort of thing 
up?” Clark was astounded at the editor’s action 
and could not understand it. 

“Clark, do you think if Jesus was the editor and 
proprietor of a daily paper in Kaymond He would 
permit advertisements of whisky and tobacco in 
it?” 

“Well — no — I don’t suppose He would. But 
what has that to do with us? We can’t do as He 
would. Newspapers can’t be run on any such 
basis.” 

“Why not?” asked Norman quietly. 

“Why not ? Because they will lose more money 
than they make, that’s all !” Clark spoke out with 
an irritation that he really felt. “We shall cer- 
tainly bankrupt the paper with this sort of business 
policy.” 

“Do you think so ?” Norman asked the question 
not as if he expected an answer, but simply as if he 
were talking with himself. After a pause he said : 

“You may direct Marks to do as I have said. I 
believe it is what Christ would do, and as I told 
you, Clark, that is what I have promised to try to 
do for a year, regardless of what the results may be 
to me. I cannot believe that by any kind of rea- 
soning we could reach a conclusion justifying our 
Lord in the advertisement, in this age, of whisky 
and tobacco in a newspaper. There are some other 


41 


In His Steps. 

advertisements of a doubtful character I shall 
study into. Meanwhile, I feel a conviction in re- 
gard to these that cannot be silenced.” 

Clark went back to his desk feeling as if he had 
been in the presence of a very peculiar person. He 
could not grasp the meaning of it all. He felt en- 
raged and alarmed. He was sure any such policy 
would ruin the paper as soon as it became generally 
known that the editor was trying to do everything 
by such an absurd moral standard. What would, 
become of business if this standard was adopted? 
It would upset every custom and introduce endless 
confusion. It was simply foolishness. It was 
downright idiocy. So Clark said to himself, and 
when Marks was informed of the action he sec- 
onded the managing editor with some very forcible 
ejaculations. What was the matter with the chief ? 
Was he insane? Was he going to bankrupt the 
whole business ? 

But Edward Norman had not yet faced his most 
serious problem. When he came down to the office 
Friday morning he was confronted with the usual 
program for the Sunday morning edition. The 
News was one of the few evening papers in Ray- 
mond to issue a Sunday edition, and it had always 
been remarkably successful financially. There was 
an average of one page of literary and religious 
items to thirty or forty pages of sport, theatre, gos- 
sip, fashion, society and political material. This 
made a very interesting magazine of all sorts of 
reading matter, and had always been welcomed by 
all the subscribers, church members and all, as a 
Sunday morning necessity. 

Edward Norman now faced this fact and put to 
himself the question : “What would Jesus do ?” If 


42 


In His Steps. 

He was editor of a paper, would He deliberately 
plan to put into the homes of all the church people 
and Christians of Baymond such a collection of 
reading matter on the one day in the week which 
ought to be given up to something better and 
holier ? He was of course familiar with the regu- 
lar arguments of the Sunday paper, that the public 
needed something of the sort; and the working 
man especially, who would 'not go to church any 
way, ought to have something entertaining and in- 
structive on Sunday, his only day of rest. But 
suppose the Sunday morning paper did not pay? 
Suppose there was no money in it? How eager 
would the editor or publisher be then to supply this 
crying need of the poor workman ? Edward Nor- 
man communed honestly with himself over the 
subject. 

Taking everything into account, would Jesus 
probably edit a Sunday morning paper? No mat- 
ter whether it paid. That was not the question. 
As a matter of fact, the Sunday News paid so well 
that it would be a direct loss of thousands of dollars 
to discontinue it. Besides, the regular subscribers 
had paid for a seven-day paper. Had he any right 
now to give them less than they supposed they had 
paid for? 

He was honestly perplexed by the question. So 
much was involved in the discontinuance of the 
Sunday edition that for the first time he almost 
decided to refuse to be guided by the standard of 
Jesus’ probable action. He was sole proprietor of 
the paper ; it was his to shape as he chose. He had 
no board of directors to consult as to policy. But 
as he sat there surrounded by the usual quantity of 
material for the Sunday edition he reached some 


43 


In His Steps. 

definite conclusions. And among them was a de- 
termination to call in the force of the paper and 
frankly state his motive and purpose. He sent 
word for Clark and the other men in the office, in- 
cluding the few reporters who were in the building 
and the foreman, with what men were in the com- 
posing room (it was early in the morning and they 
were not all in) to come into the mailing room. 
This was a large room, and the men came in curi- 
ously and perched around on the tables and coun- 
ters. It was a very unusual proceeding, but they 
all agreed that the paper was being run on new 
principles anyhow, and they all watched Mr. Nor- 
man carefully as he spoke. 

“I called you in here to let you know my further 
plans for the News. I propose certain changes 
which I believe are necessary. I understand very 
well that some things I have already done are re- 
garded by the men as very strange. I wish to state 
my motive in doing what I have done.” 

Here he told the men what he had already told 
Clark, and they stared as Clark had done, and 
looked as painfully conscious. 

“Now, in acting on this standard of conduct I 
have reached a conclusion which will, no doubt, 
eause some surprise. 

“I have decided that the Sunday morning edi- 
tion of the News shall be discontinued after next 
Sunday’s issue. I shall state in that issue my rea- 
sons for discontinuing. In order to make up to 
the subscribers the amount of reading matter they 
may suppose themselves entitled to, we can issue a 
double number on Saturday, as is done by many 
evening papers that make no attempt at a Sunday 
edition. I am convinced that from a Christian 


44 


In His Steps. 

point of view more harm than good has been done 
by our Sunday morning paper. I do not believe 
that Jesus would be responsible for it if He were in 
my place to-day. It will occasion some trouble to 
arrange the details caused by this change with the 
advertisers and subscribers. That is for me to 
look after. The change itself is one that will take 
place. So far as I can see, the loss will fall on 
myself. Neither the reporters nor the pressmen 
need make any particular changes in their plans.” 

He looked around the room and no one spoke. 
He was struck for the first time in his life with the 
fact that in all the years .of his newspaper life he 
had never had the force of the paper together in 
this way. Would Jesus do that? That is, would 
He probably run a newspaper on some loving fam- 
ily plan, where editors, reporters, pressmen and all 
rrieet to discuss and devise and plan for the making 
of a paper that should have in view — 

He caught himself drawing almost away from 
the facts of typographical unions and office rules 
and reporters’ enterprise and all the cold, business- 
like methods that make a great daily successful. 
But still the vague picture that came up in the 
mailing room would not fade away when he had 
gone into his office and the men had gone back to 
their places with wonder in their looks and ques- 
tions of all sorts on their tongues as they talked 
over the editor’s remarkable actions. 

Clark came in and had a long, serious talk with 
his chief. He was thoroughly roused, and his pro- 
test almost reached the point of resigning his place. 
Norman guarded himself carefully. Every min- 
ute of the interview was painful to him, but he felt 
more than ever the necessity of doing the Christ- 


45 


In His Steps. 

like thing. Clark was a very valuable man. It 
would be difficult to till his place. But he was not 
able to give any reasons for continuing the Sunday 
paper that answered the question, “What would 
Jesus do?” by letting Jesus print that edition. 

“It comes to this, then,” said Clark frankly, “you 
will bankrupt the paper in thirty days. We might 
as well face that future fact.” 

“I don't think we shall. Will you stay by the 
News until it is bankrupt?” asked Norman with a 
strange smile. 

“Mr. Norman, I don’t understand you. You 
are not the same man this week that I always knew 
before.” 

“I don’t know myself either, Clark. Something 
remarkable has caught me up and borne me on. 
But I was never more convinced of final success 
and power for the paper. You have not answered 
my question. Will you stay with me ?” 

Clark hesitated a moment and finally said yes. 
Norman shook hands with him and turned to his 
desk. Clark went back into his room, stirred by a 
number of conflicting emotions. He had never 
before known such an exciting and mentally dis- 
turbing week, and he felt now as if he was con- 
nected with an enterprise that might at any mo- 
ment collapse and ruin him and all connected 
with it. 


46 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTEK Y. 

Sunday morning dawned again on Eaymond, 
and Henry Maxwell’s church was again crowded. 
Before the service began Edward Norman attracted 
great attention. He sat quietly in his usual place 
about three seats from the pulpit. The Sunday 
morning issue of the News containing the state- 
ment of its discontinuance had been expressed in 
such remarkable language that every reader was 
struck by it. No such series of distinct sensations 
had ever disturbed the usual business custom of 
Eaymond. The events connected with the News 
were not all. People were eagerly talking about 
strange things done during the week by Alexander 
Powers at the railroad shops, and Milton Wright 
in his stores on the avenue. The service progressed 
upon a distinct wave of excitement in the pews. 
Henry Maxwell faced it all with a calmness which 
indicated a strength and purpose more than usual. 
His prayers were very helpful. His sermon was 
not so easy to describe. How would a minister be 
apt to preach to his people if he came before them 
after an entire week of eager asking, “How would 
Jesus preach? What would He probably say ?” It 
is very certain that he did not preach as he had 
done two Sundays before. Tuesday of the past 
week he had stood by the grave of the dead stranger 
and said the words, “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, 
dust to dust,” and still he was moved by the spirit 
of a deeper impulse than he could measure as he 


In His Steps. 47 

thought of his people and yearned for the Christ 
message when he should be in his pulpit again. 

Now that Sunday had come and the people were 
there to hear, what would the Master tell them? 
He agonized over his preparation for them, and 
yet he knew he had not been able to fit his message 
into his ideal of the Christ. Nevertheless no one 
in the First Church could remember ever hearing 
such a sermon before. There was in it rebuke for 
sin, especially hypocrisy, there was definite rebuke 
of the greed of wealth and the selfishness of fash- 
ion, two things that First Church never heard re- 
buked this way before, and there was a love of his 
people that gathered new force as the sermon went 
on. When it was finished there were those who 
were saying in their hearts, “The Spirit moved that 
sermon.” And they were right. 

Then Rachel Winslow rose to sing, this time 
after the sermon, by Mr. Maxwell’s request. Ra- 
chel’s singing did not provoke applause this time. 
What deeper feeling carried the people’s hearts 
into a reverent silence and tenderness of thought? 
Rachel was beautiful. But her consciousness of 
her remarkable loveliness had always marred her 
singing with those who had the deepest spiritual 
- feeling. It had also marred her rendering of cer- 
tain kinds of music with herself. To-day this was 
all gone. There was no lack of power in her grand 
voice. But there was an actual added element 
of humility and purity which the audience dis- 
tinctly felt and bowed to. 

Before service closed Mr. Maxwell asked those 
who had remained the week before to stay again for 
a few moments of consultation, and any others who 
were willing to make the pledge taken at that time. 


48 


In His Steps. 

When he was at liberty he went into the lecture- 
.room. To his astonishment it was almost filled. 
This time a large proportion of young people had 
come, but among them were a few business men 
and officers of the church. 

As before, he, Maxwell, asked them to pray with 
him. And, as before, a distinct answer came from 
the presence of the divine Spirit. There was no 
doubt in the minds of any present that what they 
purposed to do was so clearly in line with the 
divine will, that a blessing rested upon it in a very 
special manner. 

They remained some time to ask questions and 
consult together. There was a feeling of fellow- 
ship such as they had never known in their church 
membership. Mr. Norman’s action was well un- 
derstood by them all, and he answered several 
questions. 

“What will be the probable result of your dis- 
continuance of the Sunday paper?” asked Alexan- 
der Powers, who sat next to him. 

“I don’t know yet. I presume it will result in 
the falling off of subscriptions and advertisements. 
I anticipate that.” 

“Do you have any doubts about your action? f 
mean, do you regret it, or fear it is not what Jesn 
would do?” asked Mr. Maxwell. 

“Not in the least. But I would like to ask, for 
my own satisfaction, if any of you here thinks Jesus 
would issue a Sunday morning paper?” 

No one spoke for a minute. Then Jasper Chase 
said, “We seem to think alike on that, but I have 
been puzzled several times during the week to know 
just what He would do. It is not always an easy 
question to answer.” 


In His Steps. 49 

“I find that trouble,” said Virgina Page. She 
sat by Rachel Winslow. Every one who knew Vir- 
ginia Page was wondering how she would succeed 
in keeping her promise. "I think perhaps I find 
it specially difficult to answer that question on ac- 
count of my money. Our Lord never owned any 
~roperty, and there is nothing in His example to 
niide me in the use of mine. I am studying and 
graying. I think I see clearly a part of what He 
would do, but not all. What would He do with a 
million dollars? is my question really. I confess 
I am not yet able to answer it to my satisfaction.” 

“I could tell you what you could do with a part 
of it,” said Rachel, turning her face toward Vir- 
ginia. 

“That does not trouble me,” replied Virgina 
with a slight smile. “What I am trying to dis- 
cover is a principle that will enable me to come to 
the nearest possible to His action as it ought to 
influence the entire course of my life so far as my 
wealth and its use are concerned.” 

“That will take time,” said the minister slowly. 
All the rest of the room were thinking hard of the 
same thing. Milton Wright told something of his 
experience. He was gradually working out a plan 
for his business relations with his employees, and 
it was opening up a new world to him and to them. 
A few of the young men told of special attempts to 
answer the question. There was almost general 
consent over the fact that the application of the 
Christ spirit and practice to the everyday life was 
the serious thing. It required a knowledge of Him 
and an insight into His motives that most of them 
did not yet possess. 

When they finally adjourned after a silent prayer 


50 


In His Steps. 

that marked with growing power the Divine Pres- 
ence, they went away discussing earnestly their dif- 
ficulties and seeking light from one another. 

Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page went out to- 
gether. Edward Norman and Milton Wright be- 
came so interested in their mutual conference that 
they walked on past Norman’s house and came had 
together. Jasper Chase and the president of th» 
Endeavor Society stood talking earnestly in on<- 
corner of the room. Alexander Powers and Henry 
Maxwell remained, even after the others had gone. . 

“I want you to come down to the shops to- 
morrow and see my plan and talk to the men. 
Somehow I feel as if you could get nearer to them 
than any one else just now.” 

“I don’t know about that, but I will come,” re- 
plied Mr. Maxwell a little sadly. How was he fitted 
to stand before two or three hundred working men 
and give them a message? Yet in the moment of 
his weakness, as he asked the question, he rebuked 
himself for it. What would Jesus do? That was 
an end to the discussion. 

He went down the next day and found Mr. Pow- 
ers in his office. It lacked a few minutes of twelve 
and the superintendent said, “Come upstairs, and 
I’ll show you what I’ve been trying to do.” 

They went through the machine shop, climbed 
a long flight of stairs and entered a very large, 4 
empty room. It had once been used by the com- 
pany for a store room. 

“Since making that promise a week ago I have 
had a good many things to think of,” said the 
superintendent, “and among them is this: The 
company gives me the use of this room, and I am 
going to fit it up with tables and a coffee plant in 


V 


51 


In His Steps. 

the corner there where those steam pipes are. My 
plan is to provide a good place where the men can 
come up and eat their noon lunch, and give them, 
two or three times a week, the privilege of a fifteen 
minutes’ talk on some subject that will be a real 
help to them in their lives.” 

Maxwell looked surprised and asked if the men 
would come for any such purpose. 

“Yes, they’ll come. After all, I know the men 
pretty well. They are among the most intelligent 
working men in the country to-day. But they are, 
as a whole, entirely removed from church influence. 
I asked, ‘What would Jesus do?’ and among other 
things it seemed to me He would begin to act in 
some way to add to the lives of these men more 
physical and spiritual comfort. It is a very little 
thing, this room and what it represents, but I 
acted on the first impulse, to do the first thing that 
appealed to my good sense, and I want to work out 
this idea. I want you to speak to the men when 
they come up at noon. I have asked them to come 
up and see the place and I’ll tell them something 
about it.” 

Maxwell was ashamed to say how uneasy he felt 
at being asked to speak a few words to a company of 
working men. How could he speak without notes, 
or to such a crowd? He was honestly in a con- 
dition of genuine fright over the prospect. He 
actually felt afraid of facing those men. He 
shrank from the ordeal of confronting such a 
crowd, so different from the Sunday audiences he 
was familiar with. 

There were a dozen rude benches and tables in 
the room, and when the noon whistle sounded the 
men poured upstairs from the machine shops be- 


52 In His Steps. 

low and, seating themselves at the tables, began to 
eat their lunch. There were present about three 
hundred of them. They had read the superin- 
tendent’s notice which he had posted up in various 
places, and came largely out of curiosity. 

They were favorably impressed. The room w r as 
large and airy, free from smoke and dust, and well 
warmed from the steam pipes. At about twenty 
minutes to one Mr. Powers told the men what he 
had in mind. He spoke very simply, like one who 
understands thoroughly the character of his au- 
dience, and then introduced the Rev. Henry Max- 
w r ell of the First Church, his pastor, who had con- 
sented to speak a few minutes. 

Maxwell will never forget the feeling with 
which for the first time he stood before the grimy- 
faced audience of working men. Like hundreds of 
other ministers, he had never spoken to any gath- 
erings except those made up of people of his own 
class in the sense that they were familiar, in their 
dress and education and habits. This was a new 
world to him, and nothing but his new rule of con- 
duct could have made possible his message and its 
effect. He spoke on the subject of satisfaction 
with life; what caused it, what its real sources were. 
He had the great good sense on this his first ap- 
pearance not to recognize the men as a class dis- ' 
tinct from himself. He did not use the term 
working man, and did not say a word to suggest 
any difference between their lives and his own. 

The men were pleased. A good many of them 
shook hands with him before going down to their 
work, and the minister telling it all to his wife 
when he reached home, said that never in all his 
life had he known the delight he then felt in having 


In His Steps. 53 

the handshake from a man of physical labor. The 
day marked an important one in his Christian ex- 
perience, more important than he knew. It was 
the beginning of a fellowship between him and the 
working world. It was the first plank laid down 
to help bridge the chasm between the church and 
labor in Raymond. 

Alexander Powers went back to his desk that 
afternoon much pleased with his plan and seeing 
much help in it for the men. He knew where he 
could get some good tables from an abandoned eat- ^ 
ing house at one of the stations down the road, 
and he saw how the coffee arrangement could be 
made a very attractive feature. The men had 
responded even better than he anticipated, and the 
whole thing could not help being a great benefit 
to them. 

He took up the routine of his work with a glow 
of satisfaction. After all, he wanted to do as Jesus 
would, he said to himself. 

It was nearly four o’clock when he opened one of 
the company’s long envelopes which he supposed 
contained orders for the purchasing of stores. He 
ran over the first page of type-written matter in his 
usual quick, business-like manner, before he saw 
that what he was reading was not intended for his 
office but for the superintendent of the freight 
department. 

He turned over a page mechanically, not mean- 
ing to read what was not addressed to him, but, be- 
fore he knew it, he was in possession of evidence 
which conclusively proved that the company was 
engaged in a systematic violation of the Interstate 
Commerce Laws of the United States. It was as 
distinct and unequivocal a breaking of law as if a 

4 


•54 


In His Steps. 

private citizen should enter a house and rob the 
inmates. The discrimination shown in rebates 
was in total contempt of all the statutes. Under 
the laws of the state it was also a distinct viola- 
tion of certain provisions recently passed by the 
legislature to prevent railroad trusts. There was 
no question that he had in his hands evidence suffi- 
cient to convict the company of willful, intelligent 
violation of the law of the commission and the 
law of the state also. 

He dropped the papers on his desk as if they 
were poison, and instantly the question flashed 
across his mind, “What would Jesus do?” He 
tried to shut the question out. He tried to reason 
with himself by saying it was none of his business. 
He had known in a more or less definite way, as 
-did nearly all the officers of the company, that this 
had been going on right along on nearly all the 
roads. He was not in a position, owing to his place 
in the shops, to prove anything direct, and he had 
regarded it as a matter which did not concern him 
at all. The papers now before him revealed the 
entire affair. They had through some carelessness 
been addressed to him. What business of his was 
it ? If he saw a man entering his neighbor’s house 
to steal, would it not be his duty to inform the 
officers of the law? Was a railroad company such 
a different thing? Was it under a different rule of 
conduct, so that it could rob the public and defy 
law and be undisturbed because it was such a great 
organization ? What would J esus do ? Then there 
was his- family. Of course, if he took any steps to 
inform the commission it would mean the loss of 
his position. His wife and daughter had always 
•enjoyed luxury and a good place in society. If he 


55 


In His Steps. 

came out against this lawlessness as a witness it 
would drag him into courts, his motives would he 
misunderstood, and the whole thing would end in 
his disgrace and the loss of his position. Surely 
it was none of his business. He could easily get 
the papers back to the freight department and no 
one be the wiser. Let the iniquity go on. Let the 
law be defied. What was it to him! He would 
work out his plans for bettering the condition just 
before him. What more could a man do in this 
railroad business when there was so much going 
on anyway that made it impossible to live by the 
Christian standard? But what would Jesus do if 
He knew the facts? That was the question that 
confronted Alexander Powers as the day wore into 
evening. 

The lights in the office had been turned on. 
The whirr of the great engine and the clash of the 
planers in the big shop continued until six o’clock. 
Then the whistle blew, the engine slowed up, the 
men dropped their tools and ran for the block 
house. 

Powers heard the familiar click, click, of the 
clocks as the men filed past the window of the block 
house just outside. He said to his clerks, “I’m not 
going just yet. I have something extra to-night.” 
He waited until he heard the last man deposit his 
block. The men behind the block case went out. 
The engineer and his assistants had work for half 
an hour but they went out by another door. 

At seven o’clock any one who had looked into 
the superintendent’s office wmuld have seen an un- 
usual sight. He was kneeling, and his face was 
buried in his hands as he bowed his head upon the 
papers on his desk. 


56 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER VI. 

“If any man cometh unto me and hateth not his 
own father and mother and wife and children and 
brethren and sisters, yea, and his own life also he can- 
not be my disciple.” 

“And whosoever forsaketh not all that he hath, he 
cannot be my disciple.” 

When Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page sepa- 
rated after the meeting at the First Church on 
Sunday they agreed to continue their conversation 
the next day. Virginia asked Rachel to come and 
lunch with her at noon, and Rachel accordingly 
rang the bell at the Page mansion about half-past 
eleven. Virginia herself met her and the two were 
soon talking earnestly. 

“The fact is,” Rachel was saying, after they had 
been talking a few moments, “1 cannot reconcile it 
with my judgment of what Christ would do. I 
eannot tell another person what to do, hut I feel 
that I ought not to accept this offer;” 

“What will you do then?” asked Virginia with 
great interest. 

“I don’t know yet, hut I have decided to refuse 
this offer.” 

Rachel picked up a letter that had been lying 
in her lap and ran over its contents again. It was 
a letter from the manager of a comic opera, offering 
her a place with a large traveling company of the 
season. The salary was a very large figure, and 
the prospect held out by the manager was flatter- 
ing. He had heard Rachel sing that Sunday morn- 


57 


In His Steps. 

ing when the stranger had interrupted the service. 
He had been much impressed. There was money 
in that voice and it ought to he used in comic 
opera, so said the letter, and the manager wanted 
a reply as soon as possible. 

“There’s no great virtue in saying ‘No’ to this 
offer when I have the other one,” Rachel went on 
thoughtfully. “That’s harder to decide. But I’ve 
about made up my mind. To tell the truth, Vir- 
ginia, I’m completely convinced in the first case 
that Jesus would never use any talent like a good 
voice just to make money. But now, take this 
concert offer. Here is a reputable company, to 
travel with an impersonator and a violinist and a 
male quartet, all people of good reputation. I’m 
asked to go as one of the company and sing lead- 
ing soprano. The salary — I mentioned it, didn’t 
I ? — is guaranteed to be $200 a month for the sea- 
son. But I don’t feel satisfied that Jesus would 
go. What do you think?” 

“You mustn’t ask me to decide for you,” replied 
Virginia with a sad smile. “I believe Mr. Maxwell 
was right when he said we must each one of us de- 
cide according to the judgment we feel for our- 
selves to be Christ-like. I am having a harder 
time than you are, dear, to decide what He would 
do.” 

“Are you ?” Rachel asked. She rose and walked 
over to the window and looked out. Virginia came 
and stood by her. The street was crowded with 
life and the two young women looked at it silently 
for a moment. Suddenly Virginia broke out as 
Rachel had never heard her before: 

“Rachel, what does all this contrast in conditions 
mean to you as you ask this question of what Jesus 


58 


In His Steps. 

would do? It maddens me to think that the so- 
ciety in which I have been brought up, the same to 
which we are both said to belong, is satisfied year 
after year to go on dressing and eating and having 
a good time, giving and receiving entertainments, 
spending its money on houses and luxuries and, oc- 
casionally, to ease its conscience, donating, without 
any personal sacrifice, a little money to charity. I 
have been educated, as you have, in one of the 
most expensive schools in America; launched into 
society as an heiress; supposed to be in a very en- 
viable position. Fm perfectly well ; I can travel or 
stay at home. I can do as I please. I can gratify 
almost any want or desire ; and yet when I honestly 
try to imagine Jesus living the life I have lived and 
am expected to live, and doing for the rest of my 
life what thousands of other rich people do, I am 
under condemnation for being one of the most 
wicked, selfish, useless creatures in all the world. 
I have not looked out of this window for weeks 
without a feeling of horror toward myself as I see 
the humanity that passes by this house.” 

Virginia turned away and walked up and down 
the room. Rachel watched her and could not re- 
press the rising tide of her own growing definition 
of discipleship. Of what Christian use was her 
own talent of song? Was the best she could do 
to sell her talent for so much a month, go on a 
concert company’s tour, dress beautifully, enjoy 
the excitement of public applause and gain a repu- 
tation as a great singer? Was that what Jesus 
would do? 

She was not morbid. She was in sound health, 
was conscious of her great powers as a singer, and 
knew that if she went out into public life she could 


/ 


59 * 


In His Steps. 

make a great deal of money and become well 
known. It is doubtful if she overestimated her 
ability to accomplish all she thought herself capa- 
ble of. And Virginia — what she had just said 
smote Rachel with great force because of the sim- 
ilar position in which the two friends found them- 
selves. 

Lunch was announced and they went out and 
were joined by Virginia’s grandmother, Madam 
Page, a handsome, stately woman of sixty-five, and 
Virginia’s brother Rollin, a young man who spent 
most of his time at one of the clubs and had no 
ambition for anything but a growing admiration 
for Rachel Winslow, and whenever she dined or 
lunched at the Pages’, if he knew of it he always 
planned to be at home. 

These three made up the Page family. Virginia’s 
father had been a banker and grain speculator. 
Her mother had died ten years before, her father 
within the past year. The grandmother, a South- 
ern woman in birth and training, had all the tra- 
ditions and feelings that accompany the posses- 
sion of wealth and social standing that have never 
been disturbed. She was a shrewd, careful busi- 
ness woman of more than average ability. The 
family property and wealth were invested, in large 
measure, under her personal care. Virginia’s por- 
tion was, without any restriction, her own. She 
had been trained by her father to understand the 
ways of the business world, and even the grand- 
mother had been compelled to acknowledge the 
girl’s capacity for taking care of her own money. 

Perhaps two persons could not be found any- 
where less capable of understanding a girl like 
Virginia than Madam Page and Rollin. Rachel* 


60 


In His Steps. 

who had known the family since she was a girl 
playmate of Virginia’s, could not help thinking 
of what confronted Virginia in her own home 
when she once decided on the course which she 
honestly believed Jesus would take. To-day at 
lunch, as she recalled Virginia’s outbreak in the 
front room, she tried to picture the scene that 
would at some time occur between Madam Page 
and her granddaughter. 

“I understand that you are going on the stage, 
Miss Winslow. We shall all be delighted, I’m 
sure,” said Rollin during the conversation, which 
had not been very animated. 

Rachel colored and felt annoyed. “Who told 
you?” she asked, while Virginia, who had been 
very silent and reserved, suddenly roused herself 
and appeared ready to join in the talk. 

“Oh! we hear a thing or two on the street. Re- 
sides, every one saw Crandall the manager at 
church two weeks ago. He doesn’t go to church to 
hear the preaching. In fact, I know other peo- 
ple who don’t either, not when there’s something 
better to hear.” 

Rachel did not color this time, but she answered 
quietly, “You’re mistaken. I’m not going on the 
stage.” 

“It’s a great pity. You’d make a hit. Every- 
body is talking about your singing.” 

This time Rachel flushed with genuine anger. 
Before she could say anything, Virginia broke in: 

“Whom do you mean by ‘everybody?’ ” 

“Whom? I mean all the people who hear Miss 
Winslow on Sundays. What other time do they 
hear her? It’s a great pity, I say, that the general 
public outside of Raymond cannot hear her voice.” 


61 


In His Steps. 

“Let us talk about something else,” said Rachel 
a little sharply. Madam Page glanced at her and 
spoke with a gentle courtesy. 

“My dear, Rollin never could pay an indirect 
compliment. He is like his father in that. But 
we are all curious to know something of your plans. 
We claim the right from . old acquaintance, you 
know; and Virginia has already told us of your 
concert company offer.” 

“I supposed of course that was public property,” 
said Virginia, smiling across the table. “I was in 
the News office day before yesterday.” 

“Yes, yes,” replied Rachel hastily. “I under- 
stand that, Madam Page. Well, Virginia and I 
have been talking about it. I have decided not to 
accept, and that is about as far as I have gone at 
present.” 

Rachel was conscious of the fact that the conver- 
sation had, up to this point, been narrowing her 
hesitation concerning the concert company’s - offer 
down to a decision that would absolutely satisfy 
her own judgment of Jesus’ probable action. It 
had been the last thing in the world, however, that 
she had desired, to have her decision made in any 
way so public as this. Somehow what Rollin 
Page had said and his manner in saying it had 
hastened her decision in the matter. 

“Would you mind telling us, Rachel, your rea- 
sons for refusing the offer? It looks like a great 
opportunity for a young girl like you. Don’t you 
think the general public ought to hear you? * I feel 
like Rollin about that. A voice like yours belongs 
to a larger audience than Raymond and the First 
Church.” 

Rachel Winslow was naturally a girl of great 


62 In His Steps. 

reserve. She shrank from making her plans or 
her thoughts public. But with all her repression 
there was possible in her an occasional sudden 
breaking out that was simply an impulsive, thor- 
oughly frank, truthful expression of her most in- 
ner personal feeling. She spoke now in reply to 
Madam Page in one of those rare moments of un- 
reserve that added to the attractiveness of her 
whole character. 

“I have no other reason than a conviction that 
Jesus Christ would do the same thing,” she said, 
looking into Madam Page’s eyes with a clear, 
earnest gaze. 

Madam Page turned red and Rollin stared. Be- 
fore her grandmother could say anything, Virginia 
spoke. Her rising color showed how she was 
stirred. Virginia’s pale, clear complexion was that 
of health, but it was generally in marked contrast 
with Rachel’s tropical type of beauty. 

“Grandmother, you know we promised to make 
that the standard of our conduct for a year. Mr. 
Maxwell’s proposition was plain to all who heard 
it. We have not been able to arrive at our deci- 
sions very rapidly. The difficulty in knowing what 
Jesus would do has perplexed Rachel and me a 
good deal.” 

Madam Page looked sharply at Virginia before 
she said anything. 

“Of course I understand Mr. Maxwell’s state- 
ment. It is perfectly impracticable to put it into 
practice. I felt confident at the time that those 
who promised would find it out after a trial and 
abandon it as visionary and absurd. I have noth- 
ing to say about Miss Winslow’s affairs, but,” she 
paused and continued with a sharpness that was 


In His Steps. 63 

new to Rachel, “I hope you have no foolish notions 
in this matter, Virginia.” 

“I have a great many notions,” replied Virginia 
quietly. “Whether they are foolish or not de- 
pends upon my right understanding of what He 
would do. As soon as I find out I shall do it.” 

“Excuse me, ladies,” said Rollin, rising from the 
table. “The conversation is getting beyond my 
depth. I shall retire to the library for a cigar.” 

He went out of the dining-room and there was 
silence for a moment. Madam Page waited until 
the servant had brought in something and then 
asked her to go out. She was angry and her anger 
was formidable, although checked in some measure 
by the presence of Rachel. 

“I am older by several years than you, young 
ladies,” she said, and her traditional type of bear- 
ing seemed to Rachel to rise up like a great frozen 
wall between her and every conception of Jesus as 
a sacrifice. “What you have promised, in a spirit 
of false emotion I presume, is impossible of per- 
formance.” 

“Do you mean, grandmother, that we cannot 
possibly act as our Lord would? or do you mean 
that, if we try to, we shall offend the customs and 
prejudices of society?” asked Virginia. 

“It is not required! It is not necessary! Be- 
sides how can you act with any — ” Madam Page 
paused, broke off her sentence, and then turned 
to Rachel. “What will your mother say to your 
decision? My dear, is it not foolish? What do 
you expect to do with your voice anyway ?” 

“I don’t know what mother will say yet?” Rachel 
answered, with a great shrinking from trying to 
give her mother’s probable answer. If there was 


(14 In His Steps. 

a woman in all Raymond with great ambitions for 
her daughter’s success as a singer, Mrs. Winslow 
was that woman. 

“Oh! you will see it in a different light after 
wiser thought of it. My dear/’ continued Madam 
Page rising from the table, “you will live to regret 
it if you do not accept the concert company’s offer 
or something like it.” 

Rachel said something that contained a hint of 
the struggle she was still having. And after a 
little she went away, feeling that her departure was 
to be followed by a very painful conversation be- 
tween Virginia and her grandmother. As she af- 
terward learned Virginia passed through a crisis of 
feeling during that scene with her grandmother 
that hastened her final decision as to the use of her 
money and her social position. 


In His Steps. 


65 


CHAPTER YII. 

Rachel was glad to escape and be by herself. A 
plan was slowly forming in her mind, and she 
wanted to be alone and think it out carefully. But 
< before she had walked two blocks she was annoyed 
to find Rollin Page walking beside her. 

“Sorry to disturb your thoughts. Miss Winslow, 
but I happened to be going your way and had an 
idea you might not object. In fact, I've been 
walking here for a whole block and you haven't 
objected.” 

“I did not see you,” said Rachel briefly. 

“I wouldn’t mind that if you only thought of 
me once in a while,” said Rollin suddenly. He 
took one last nervous puff on his cigar, tossed it 
into the street, and walked along with a pale look 
on his face. 

Rachel was surprised, but not startled. She had 
known Rollin as a boy, and there had been a time 
when they had used each other’s first name famil- 
iarly. Lately, however, something in Rachel’s 
f manner had put an end to that. She was used to 
his direct attempts at compliments and was some- 
times amused by them. To-day she honestly 
wished him anywhere else. 

“Do you ever think of me. Miss Winslow ?” asked 
Rollin after a pause. 

“Oh, yes, quite often !” said Rachel with a smile. 

“Are you thinking of me now ?” 

“Yes. That is — yes — I am.” 

“What?” 


66 In His Steps. 

“Do you want me to be absolutely truthful ?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then I was thinking that I wished you were 
not here.” 

Rollin bit his lip and looked gloomy. 

“How look here, Rachel — oh, I know that’s for- 
bidden, but I’ve got to speak some time! — you 
know how I feel. What makes you treat me so? 
You used to like me a little, you know.” 

“Did I ? Of course we used to get on very well 
as boy and girl. But we are older now.” 

Rachel still spoke in the light, easy way she had 
used since her first annoyance at seeing him. She 
was still somewhat preoccupied with her plan 
which had been disturbed by Rollin’s sudden ap- 
pearance. 

They walked along in silence a little way. The 
avenue was full of people. Among the persons 
passing was Jasper Chase. He saw Rachel and 
Rollin and bowed as they went by. Rollin was 
watching Rachel closely. 

“I wish I was Jasper Chase. Maybe I would 
stand some chance then,” he said moodily. 

Rachel colored in spite of herself. She did not 
say anything and quickened her pace a little. Rol- 
lin seemed determined to say something, and Ra- 
chel seemed helpless to prevent him. After all, 
she thought, he might as well know the truth one 
time as another. 

“You know well enough, Rachel, how I feel to- 
ward you. Isn’t there any hope? I could make 
you happy. I’ve loved you a good many years — ” 

“Why, how old do you think I am?” broke in 
Rachel with a nervous laugh. She was shaken out 
of her usual poise of manner. 


67 


In His Steps. 

“You know what I mean/’ went on Rollin dog- 
gedly. “And you have no right to laugh at me just 
because I want you to marry me.” 

“I’m not! But it is useless for you to speak, 
Rollin,” said Rachel after a little hesitation, and 
then using his name in such a frank, simple way 
that he could attach no meaning to it beyond the 
familiarity of the old family acquaintance. “It is 
impossible.” She was still a little agitated by the 
fact of receiving a proposal of marriage on the ave- 
nue. But the noise on the street and sidewalk 
made the conversation as private as if they were in 
the house. 

“Would — that is — do you think — if you gave me 
time I would — ” 

“Ho !” said Rachel. She spoke firmly ; perhaps, 
she thought afterward, although she did not mean 
to, she spoke harshly. 

They walked on for some time without a word. 
They were nearing Rachel’s home and she was 
anxious to end the scene. 

As they turned off the avenue into one of the 
quieter streets Rollin spoke suddenly and with 
more manliness than he had yet shown. There 
was a distinct note of dignity in his voice that was 
new to Rachel. 

“Miss Winslow, I ask you to be my wife. Is 
there any hope for me that you will ever consent ?” 

“Hone in the least.” Rachel spoke decidedly. 

“Will you tell me why ?” He asked the question 
as if he had a right to a truthful answer. 

“Because I do not feel toward you as a woman 
ought to feel toward the man she marries.” 

“In other words, you do not love me ?” 

“I do not and I cannot.” 


68 


In His Steps. 

“Why ?” That was another question, and Rachel 
was a little surprised that he should ask it. 

“Because — ■” she hesitated for fear she might 
say too much in an attempt to speak the exact 
truth. 

“Tell me just why. You can’t hurt me more 
than you have already.” 

“Well, I do not and I cannot love you because 
you have no purpose in life. What do you ever do 
to make the world better? You spend your time 
in club life, in amusements, in travel, in luxury. 
What is there in such a life to attract a woman ?” 

“Hot much, I guess,” said Rollin with a bitter 
laugh. “Still, I don’t know that I’m any worse 
than the rest of the men around me. I’m not so 
bad as some. I’m glad to know your reasons.” 

He suddenly stopped, took off his hat, bowed 
gravely and turned back. Rachel went on home 
and hurried into her room, disturbed in many ways 
by the event which had so unexpectedly thrust it- 
self into her experience. 

When she had time to think it all over she found 
herself condemned by the very judgment she had 
passed on Rollin Page. What purpose had she in 
life? She had been abroad and studied music 
with one of the famous teachers of Europe. She 
had come home to Raymond and had been singing 
in the First Church choir now for a year. She 
was well paid. Up to that Sunday two weeks ago 
she had been quite satisfied .with herself and with 
her position. She had shared her mother’s ambi- 
tion, and anticipated growing triumphs in the 
musical world. What possible career was before 
her except the regular career of every singer ? 

She asked the question again and, in the light of 


In His Steps. 69 

her recent reply to Rollin, asked again, if she had 
any very great purpose in life herself. What 
would Jesus do ? There was a fortune in her voice. 
She knew it, not necessarily as a matter of personal 
pride or professional egotism, but simply as a fact. 
And she was obliged to acknowledge that until two 
weeks ago she had purposed to use her voice to 
make money and win admiration and applause. 
Was that a much higher purpose, after all, than 
Rollin Page lived for ? 

She sat in her room a long time and finally went 
downstairs, resolved to have a frank talk with her 
mother about the concert company’s offer and the 
new plan which was gradually shaping in her mind. 
She had already had one talk with her mother 
and knew that she expected Rachel to accept the 
offer and enter on a successful career as a public 
singer. 

“Mother,” Rachel said, coming at once to the 
point, much as she dreaded the interview, “I have 
decided not to go out with the company. I have a 
good reason for it.” 

Mrs. Winslow was a large, handsome woman, 
fond of much company, ambitious for distinction 
in society and devoted, according to her definitions- 
of success, to the success of her children. Her 
youngest boy, Louis, two years younger than Ra- 
chel, was ready to graduate from a military acad- 
emy in the summer. Meanwhile she and Rachel 
were at home together. Rachel’s father, like Vir- 
ginia’s, had died while the family was abroad. Like 
Virginia she found herself, under her present rule 
of conduct, in complete antagonism with her own 
immediate home circle. Mrs. Winslow waited for 
Rachel to go on. 

5 


70 In His Steps. 

“You know the promise I made two weeks ago, 
mother ?” 

“Mr. Maxwell’s promise ?” 

“Ho, mine. You know what it was, do you not, 
mother ?” 

“I suppose I do. Of course all the church mem- 
bers mean to imitate Christ and follow Him, as far 
as is consistent with our present day surroundings. 
But what has that to do with your decision in the 
concert company matter ?” 

“It has everything to do with it. After asking, 
‘What would J esus do ?’ and going to the source of 
authority for wisdom, I have been obliged to say 
that I do not believe He would, in my case, make 
that use of my voice.” 

“Why? Is there anything wrong about such a 
career ?” 

“Ho, I don’t know that I can say there is.” 

“Do you presume to sit in judgment on other 
people who go out to sing in this way? Do you 
presume to say they are doing what Christ would 
not do ?” 

“Mother, I wish you to understand me. I judge 
no one else; I condemn no other professional 
singer. I simply decide my own course. As I look 
at it, I have a conviction that Jesus would do some- 
thing else.” 

“What else?” Mrs. Winslow had not yet lost 
her temper. She did not understand the situation 
nor Rachel in the midst of it, but she was anxious 
that her daughter’s course should be as distin- 
guished as her natural gifts promised. And she 
felt confident that when the present unusual reli- 
gious excitement in the First Church had passed 
away Rachel would go on with her public life ac- 


In His Steps. 71 

cording to the wishes of the family. She was to- 
tally unprepared for Rachel's next remark. 

“What? Something that will serve mankind 
where it most needs the service of song. Mother, 
I have made up my mind to use my voice in some 
way so as to satisfy my own soul that I am doing 
something better than pleasing fashionable audi- 
ences, or making money, or even gratifying my 
own love of singing. I am going to do something 
that will satisfy me when I ask: ‘What would 
J esus do ?' I am not satisfied, and cannot be, when 
I think of myself as singing myself into the career 
of a concert company performer." 

Rachel spoke with a vigor and earnestness that 
surprised her mother. But Mrs. Winslow was 
angry now ; and she never tried to conceal her feel- 
ings. 

“It is simply absurd ! Rachel, you are a fanatic ! 
What can you do ?" 

“The world has been served by men and women 
who have given it other things that were gifts. 
Why should I, because I am blessed with a natural 
gift, at once proceed to put a market price on it 
and make all the money I can out of it? You 
know, mother, that you have taught me to think of 
a musical career always in the light of financial 
and social success. I have been unable, since I 
made my promise two weeks ago, to imagine J esus 
joining a concert company to do what I should do 
and live the life I should have to live if I joined it." 

Mrs. Winslow rose and then sat down again. 
With a great effort she composed herself. 

“What do you intend to do then ? You have not 
answered my question." 

“I shall continue to sing for the time being in 


72 


In His Steps. 

the church. I am pledged to sing there through 
the spring. During the week I am going to sing 
at the White Cross meetings, down in the Rect- 
angle.^ 

“What ! Rachel Winslow ! Do you know what 
you are saying ? Do you know what sort of people 
those are down there ?” 

Rachel almost quailed before her mother. For 
a moment she shrank back and was silent. Then 
she spoke firmly : 

“I know very well. That is the reason I am 
going. Mr. and Mrs. Gray have been working 
there several weeks. 1 learned only this morning 
that they want singers from the churches to help 
them in their meetings. They use a tent. It is in 
a part of the city where Christian work is most 
needed. I shall offer them my help. Mother!” 
Rachel cried out with the first passionate utterance 
she had yet used, “I want to do something that will 
cost me something in the way of sacrifice. I know 
you will not understand me. But I am hungry to 
suffer something. What have we done all our 
lives for the suffering, sinning side of Raymond? 
How much have we denied ourselves or given of our 
personal ease and pleasure to bless the place in 
which we live, or imitate the life of the Saviour of 
the world ? Are we always to go on doing as soci- 
ety selfishly dictates, moving on its little narrow 
round of pleasures and entertainments, and never 
knowing the pain of things that cost ?” 

“Are you preaching at me?” asked Mrs. Winslow 
slowly. Rachel rose, and understood her mother’s 
words. 

“Ho. I am preaching at myself,” she replied 
gently. She paused a moment as if she thought 


her mother would say something more, and then 
went out of the room. When she reached her own 
room she felt that so far as her own mother was 
concerned she could expect no sympathy, nor even 
a fair understanding from her. 

She kneeled. It is safe to say that within the 
two weeks since Henry Maxwell’s church had faced 
that shabby figure with the faded hat more mem- 
bers of his parish had been driven to their knees in 
prayer than during all the previous term of his pas- 
torate. 

She rose, and her face was wet with tears. She 
sat thoughtfully a little while and then wrote a 
note to Virginia Page. She sent it to her by a 
messenger and then went downstairs and told her 
mother that she and Virginia were going down to 
the Rectangle that evening to see Mr. and Mrs. 
Gray, the evangelists. 

“Virginia’s uncle, Dr. West, will go with us, if 
she goes. I have asked her to call him up by tele- 
phone and go with us. The Doctor is a friend of 
the Grays, and attended some of their meetings 
last winter.” 

Mrs. Winslow did not say anything. Her man- 
ner showed her complete disapproval of Rachel’s 
course, and Rachel felt her unspoken bitterness. 

About seven o’clock the Doctor and Virginia ap- 
peared, and together the three started for the scene 
of the White Cross meetings. 

The Rectangle was the most notorious district in 
Raymond. It was on the territory close by the 
railroad shops and the packing houses. The great; 
slum and tenement district of Raymond congested 
its worst and most wretched elements about the 
Rectangle. This was a barren field used in the 


74 


In His Steps. 

summer by circus companies and wandering show- 
men. It was shut in by rows of saloons, gam- 
bling hells and cheap, dirty boarding and lodging 
houses. 

The First Church of Raymond had never 
touched the Rectangle problem. It was too dirty, 
too coarse, too sinful, too awful for close contact. 
Let us be honest. There had been an attempt to 
cleanse this sore spot by sending down an occa- 
sional committee of singers or Sunday-school 
teachers or gospel visitors from various churches. 
But the First Church of Raymond, as an institu- 
tion, had never really done anything to make the 
Rectangle any less a stronghold of the devil as the 
years went by. 

Into this heart of the coarse part of the sin of 
Raymond the traveling evangelist and his brave lit- 
tle wife had pitched a good-sized tent and begun 
meetings. It was the spring of the year and the 
evenings were beginning to be pleasant. The evan- 
gelists had asked for the help of Christian people, 
and had received more than the usual amount of 
encouragement. But they felt a great need of more 
and better music. During the meetings on the 
Sunday just gone the assistant at the organ had 
been taken ill. The volunteers from the city were 
few and the voices were of ordinary quality. 

“There will be a small meeting to-night, John,” 
said his wife, as they entered the tent a little after 
seven o’clock and began to arrange the chairs and 
light up. 

“Yes, I fear so.” Mr. Gray was a small, ener- 
getic man, with a pleasant voice and the courage of 
a high-born fighter. He had already made friends 
in the neighborhood and one of his converts, a 


75 


In His Steps. 

heavy-faced man who had just come in, began to 
help in the arranging of seats. 

It was after eight o’clock when Alexander Pow- 
ers opened the door of his office and started for 
home. He was going to take a car at the corner of 
the Rectangle. But he was roused by a voice com- 
ing from the tent. 

It was the voice of Rachel Winslow. It struck 
through his consciousness of struggle over his own 
question that had sent him into the Divine Pres- 
ence for an answer. He had not yet reached a con- 
clusion. He was tortured with uncertainty. His 
whole previous course of action as a railroad man 
was the poorest possible preparation for anything 
sacrificial. And he could not yet say what he 
would do in the matter. 

Hark ! What was she singing ? How did Rachel 
Winslow happen to be down here? Several win- 
dows near by went up. Some men quarreling near 
a saloon stopped and listened. Other figures were 
walking rapidly in the direction of the Rectangle 
and the tent. Surely Rachel Winslow had never 
sung like that in the First Church. It was a mar- 
velous voice. What was it she was singing ? Again 
Alexander Powers, Superintendent of the machine 
shops, paused and listened. 

“Where He leads me I will follow. 

Where He leads me I will follow, 

Where He leads me I will follow, 

I’ll go with Him, with Him j 

All the way!” 

The brutal, coarse, impure life of the Rectangle 
stirred itself into new life as the song, as pure as 
the surroundings were vile, floated out and into 


76 


In His Steps. 

saloon and den and foul lodging. Some one stum- 
bling hastily by Alexander Powers said in answer 
to a question : 

“De tent’s beginning to run over to-night. 
That’s what the talent calls music, eh ?” 

The Superintendent turned toward the tent. 
Then he stopped. After a minute of indecision he 
went on to the corner and took the car for his 
home. But before he was out of the sound of 
Rachel’s voice he knew he had settled for himself 
the question of what Jesus would do. 


In His Steps. 


7? 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“If any man would come after me, let him deny him- 
self and take up his cross daily and follow me.” 

Henry Maxwell paced his study back and forth. 
It was Wednesday and he had started to think out 
the subject of his evening service which fell upon 
that night. Out of one of his study windows he 
could see the tall chimney of the railroad shops. 
The top of the evangelist’s tent just showed over 
the buildings around the Rectangle. He looked out 
of his window every time he turned in his walk. 
After a while he sat down at his desk and drew a 
large piece of paper toward him. After thinking 
several moments he wrote in large letters the fol- 
lowing : 

A NUMBER OF THINGS THAT JESUS WOULD PROBABLY DO 
IN THIS PARISH. 

1. Live in a simple, plain manner, without needless 
luxury on the one hand or undue asceticism on the 
other. 

2. Preach fearlessly to the hypocrites in the church, 
no matter what their social importance or wealth. 

3. Show in some practical form His sympathy and 
love for the common people as well as for the well-to- 
do, educated, refined people who make up the majority 
of the parish. 

4. Identify Himself with the great causes of human- 
ity in some personal way that would call for self-de- 
nial and suffering. 

5. Preach against the saloon in Raymond. 

6. Become known as a friend and companion of the 
sinful people in the Rectangle. 

7. Give up the summer trip to Europe this year. (I 


78 


In His Steps. 

have been abroad twice and cannot claim any special 
need of rest. I am well, and could forego this pleas- 
ure, using the money for some one who needs a vaca- 
tion more than I do. There are probably plenty of 
such people in the city.) 

He was conscious, with a humility that was 
once a stranger to him, that his outline of Jesus’ 
probable action was painfully lacking in depth 
and power, but he was seeking carefully for con- 
crete shapes into which he might cast his thought 
of Jesus’ conduct. Nearly every point he had put 
down, meant, for him, a complete overturning of 
the custom and habit of years in the ministry. In 
spite of that, he still searched deeper for sources 
of the Christ-like spirit. He did not attempt to 
write any more, but sat at his desk absorbed in his 
effort to catch more and more the spirit of Jesus 
in his own life. He had forgotten the particular 
subject for his prayer meeting with which he had 
begun his morning study. 

He was so absorbed over his thought that he did 
not hear the bell ring ; he was roused by the servant 
who announced a caller. He had sent up his name, 
Mr. Gray. 

Maxwell stepped to the head of the stairs and 
asked Gray to come up. So Gray came up and 
stated the reason for his call. 

“I want your help, Mr. Maxwell. Of course 
you have heard what a wonderful meeting we had 
Monday night and last night. Miss Winslow has 
done more with her voice than I could do, and the 
tent won’t hold the people.” 

"I’ve heard of that. It is the first time the people 
there have heard her. It is no wonder they are 
attracted.” 


79 


In His Steps. 

“It has been a wonderful revelation to us, and 
a most encouraging event in our work. But I came 
to ask if you could not come down to-night and 
preach. I am suffering from a severe cold. I do 
not dare trust my voice again. I know it is asking 
a good deal from such a busy man. But, if you 
can’t come, say so frankly, and I’ll try somewhere 
else.” 

“I’m sorry, but it’s my regular prayer meeting 
night,” began Henry Maxwell. Then he flushed 
and added, “I shall be able to arrange it in some 
way so as to come down. You can count on me.” 

Gray thanked him earnestly and rose to go. 

“Won’t you stay a minute, Gray, and let us have 
a prayer together?” 

“Yes,” said Gray, simply. 

So the two men kneeled together in the study. 
Henry Maxwell prayed like a child. Gray was 
touched to tears as he knelt there. There was 
something almost pitiful in the way this man who 
had lived his ministerial life in such a narrow 
limit of exercise now begged for wisdom and 
strength to speak a message to the people in the 
Rectangle. 

Gray rose and held out his hand. “God bless 
you, Mr. Maxwell. I’m sure the Spirit will give 
you power to-night.” 

Henry Maxwell made no answer. He did not 
even trust himself to say that he hoped so. But 
he thought of his promise and it brought him a 
certain peace that was refreshing to his heart and 
mind alike. 

So that is how it came about that when the First 
Church audience came into the lecture room that 
evening it met with another surprise. There was 


80 


In His Steps. 

an nnnsually large number present. The prayer 
meetings ever since that remarkable Sunday morn- 
ing had been attended as never before in the his- 
tory of the First Church. Mr. Maxwell came at 
once to the point. 

“I feel that I am called to go down to the Rect- 
angle to-night, and I will leave it with you to say 
whether you will go on with this meeting here. I 
think perhaps the best plan would be for a few vol- 
unteers to go down to the Rectangle with me, pre- 
pared to help in the after-meeting, if necessary, 
and the rest to remain here and pray that the 
Spirit power may go with us.” 

So half a dozen of the men went with the pastor, 
and the rest of the audience stayed in the lecture 
room. Maxwell could not escape the thought as he 
left the room that probably in his entire church 
membership there might not be found a score of 
disciples who were capable of doing work that 
would successfully lead needy, sinful men into the 
knowledge of Christ. The thought did not linger 
in his mind to vex him as he went his way, but it 
was simply a part of his whole new conception of 
the meaning of Christian discipleship. 

When he and his little company of volunteers 
reached the Rectangle, the tent was already 
crowded. They had difficulty in getting to the 
platform. Rachel was there with Virginia and 
Jasper Chase who had come instead of the Doctor 
to-night. 

When the meeting began with a song in which 
Rachel sang the solo and the people were asked to 
join in the chorus, not a foot of standing room was 
left in the tent. The night was mild and the sides 
of the tent were up and a great border of faces 


81 


In His Steps. 

stretched around, looking in and forming part of 
the audience. After the singing, and a prayer by 
one of the city pastors who was present, Gray 
stated the reason for his inability to speak, and in 
his simple manner turned the service over to 
“Brother Maxwell, of the First Church.” 

“Who’s de bloke ?” asked a hoarse voice near the 
outside of the tent. 

“De Fust Church parson. We’ve got de whole 
high-tone swell outfit to-night.” 

“Did you say Fust Church ? I know him. My 
landlord’s got a front pew up there,” said another 
voice, and there was a laugh, for the speaker was 
a saloon keeper. 

“Trow out de life line’ cross de dark wave ! ” 
began a drunken man near by, singing in such an 
unconscious imitation of a local traveling singer’s 
nasal tone that roars of laughter and jeers of ap- 
proval rose around him. The people in the tent 
turned in the direction of the disturbance. There 
were shouts of Tut him out !’ ‘Give the Fust 
Church a chance !’ ‘Song ! Song ! Give us another 
song !’ ” 

Henry Maxwell stood up, and a great wave of 
actual terror went over him. This was not like 
preaching to the well-dressed, respectable, good- 
mannered people up on the boulevard. He began 
to speak, but the confusion increased, Gray went 
down into the crowd, but did not seem able to quiet 
it. Maxwell raised his arm and his voice. The 
crowd in the tent began to pay some attention, but 
the noise on the outside increased. In a few min- 
utes the audience was beyond his control. He 
turned to Rachel with a sad smile. 

“Sing something, Miss Winslow. They will lis- 


82 In His Steps. 

ten to you ” he said, and then sat down and covered 
his face with his hands. 

It was Rachel’s opportunity, and she was fully 
equal to it. Virginia was at the organ and Rachel 
asked her to play a few notes of the hymn, 

“Saviour, I follow on, 

Guided by Thee, 

Seeing not yet the hand 
That leadeth me. 

Hushed be my heart and still 
Fear I no farther ill, 

Only to meet Thy will 
My will shall be.” 

Rachel had not snug the first line before the 
people in the tent were all turned toward her, 
hushed and reverent. Before she had finished the 
verse the Rectangle was subdued and tamed. It 
lay like some wild beast at her feet, and she sang it 
into harmlessness. Ah ! What were the flippant, 
perfumed, critical audiences in concert halls com- 
pared with this dirty, drunken, impure, besotted 
mass of humanity that trembled and wept and 
grew strangely, sadly thoughtful under the touch 
of this divine ministry of this beautiful young 
woman ! Mr. Maxwell, as he raised his head and 
saw the transformed mob, had a glimpse of some- 
thing that Jesus would probably do with a voice 
like Rachel Winslow’s. Jasper Chase sat with his 
eyes on the singer, and his greatest longing as an 
ambitious author was swallowed up in his thought 
of what Rachel Winslow’s love might sometimes 
mean to him. And over in the shadow outside 
stood the last person any one might have expected 
to see at a gospel tent service — Rollin Page, who, 
jostled on every side by rough men and women 


83 


In His Steps. 

who stared at the swell in tine clothes, seemed care- 
less of his surroundings and at the same time evi- 
dently swayed by the power that Rachel possessed. 
He had just come over from the club. Neither 
Rachel nor Virginia saw him that night. 

The song was over. Maxwell rose again. This 
time he felt calmer. What would Jesus do? He 
spoke as he thought once he never could speak. 
Who were these people ? They were immortal souls. 
What was Christianity? A calling of sinners, not 
the righteous, to repentance. How would Jesus 
speak? What would He say? He could not tell 
all that His message would include, but he felt sure 
of a part of it. And in that certainty he spoke on. 
Never before had he felt “compassion for the mul- 
titude.^ What had the multitude been to him 
during his ten years in the First Church but a 
vague, dangerous, dirty, troublesome factor in so- 
ciety, outside of the church and of his reach, an 
element that caused him occasionally an unpleas- 
ant twinge of conscience, a factor in Raymond that 
was talked about at associations as the “masses,” 
in papers written by the brethren in attempts to 
show why the “masses” were not being reached. 
But to-night as he faced the masses he asked him- 
self whether, after all, this was not just about 
such a multitude as Jesus faced oftenest, and he 
felt the genuine emotion of love for a crowd which 
is one of the best indications a preacher ever has 
that he is living close to the heart of the world's 
eternal Life. It is easy to love an individual sin- 
ner, especially if he is personally picturesque or in- 
teresting. To love a multitude of sinners is dis- 
tinctively a Christ-like quality. 

When the meeting closed, there was no special 


84 


In His Steps. 

interest shown. Ho one stayed to the after-meet- 
ing. The people rapidly melted away from the 
tent, and the saloons, which had been experiencing 
a dull season while the meetings progressed, again 
drove a thriving trade. The Rectangle, as if to 
make up for lost time, started in with vigor on its 
usual night debauch. Maxwell and his little party, 
including Virginia, Rachel and Jasper Chase, 
walked down past the row of saloons and dens until 
they reached the corner wffiere the cars passed. 

“This is a terrible spot,” said the minister as he 
stood waiting for their car. “I never realized that 
Raymond had such a festering sore. It does not 
seem possible that this is a city full of Christian 
disciples.” 

“Do you think any one can ever remove this 
great curse of drink ?” asked J asper Chase. 

“I have thought lately as never before of what 
Christian people might do to remove the curse of 
the saloon. Why don’t we all act together against 
it? Why don’t the Christian pastors and the 
church members of Raymond move as one man 
against the traffic? What would Jesus do? Would 
He keep silent? Would he vote to license these 
causes of crime and death?” 

He was talking to himself more than to the 
others. He remembered that he had always voted 
for license, and so had nearly all his church mem- 
bers. What would Jesus do? Could he answer 
that question? Would the Master preach and act 
against the saloon if He lived to-day ? How would 
He preach and act ? Suppose it was not popular to 
preach against license ? Suppose the Christian peo- 
ple thought it was all that could be done to license 
the evil and so get revenue from the necessary sin ? 


85 


In His Steps. 

Or suppose the church members themselves owned 
the property where the saloons stood — what then ? 
He knew that those were the facts in Raymond. 
What would J esus do ? 

He went up into his study the next morning 
with that question only partly answered. He 
thought of it all day. He was still thinking of it 
and reaching certain real conclusions when the 
Evening News came. His wife brought it up and 
sat down a few minutes while he read to her. 

The Evening News was at present the most sen- 
sational paper in Raymond. That is to say, it was 
being edited in such a remarkable fashion that its 
subscribers had never been so excited over a news- 
paper before. First they had noticed the absence 
of the prize fight, and gradually it began to dawn 
upon them that the News no longer printed ac- 
counts of crime with detailed descriptions, or scan- 
dals in private life. Then they noticed that the ad- 
vertisements of liquor and tobacco were dropped, 
together with certain others of a questionable char- 
acter. The discontinuance of the Sunday paper 
caused the greatest comment of all, and now the 
character of the editorials was creating the greatest 
excitement. A quotation from the Monday paper 
of this week will show what Edward Norman was ( 
doing to keep his promise. The editorial was 
headed : 

THE MORAL SIDE OF POLITICAL QUESTIONS. 

The editor of the News has always advocated the 
principles of the great political party at present in 
power, and has heretofore discussed all political ques- 
tions from the standpoint of expediency, or of belief 
in the party as opposed to other political organiza- 
tions. Hereafter, to be perfectly honest with all our 

6 


86 In His Steps. 

readers, the editor will present and discuss all politi- 
cal questions from the standpoint of right and wrong. 
In other words, the first question asked in this office 
about any political question will not be, “Is it in the 
interests of our party?” or, “Is it according to the, 
principles laid down by our party in its platform?” 
but the question first asked will be, “Is this measure 
in accordance with the spirit and teachings of Jesus 
as the author of the greatest standard of life known 
to men?” That is, to be perfectly plain, the moral 
side of every political question will be considered its 
most important side, and the ground will be distinctly 
taken that nations as well as individuals are under 
the same law to do all things to the glory of God as 
the first rule of action. 

The same principle will be observed in this office 
toward candidates for places of responsibility and 
trust in the republic. Regardless of party politics the 
editor of the News will do all in his power to bring 
the best men into power, and will not knowingly help 
to support for office any candidate who is unworthy, 
no matter how much he may be endorsed by the party. 
The first question asked about the man and about the 
measures will be, “Is he the right man for the place?” 
“Is he a good man with ability?” “Is the measure 
right?” 

There had been more of this, but we have 
quoted enough to show the character of the editor- 
ial. Hundreds of men in Raymond had read it 
and rubbed their eyes in amazement. A good many 
of them had promptly written to the News , telling 
the editor to stop their paper. The paper still 
came out, however, and was eagerly read all over 
the city. At the end of a week Edward Norman 
knew very well that he was fast losing a large num- 
ber of subscribers. He faced the conditions calmly, 
although Clark, the managing editor, grimly an- 
ticipated ultimate bankruptcy, especially since 
Mondays editorial. 


In His Steps. 87 

To-night, as Maxwell read to his wife, he could 
see in almost every column evidences of Norman’s 
conscientious obedience to his promise. There was 
an absence of slangy, sensational scare heads. The 
reading matter under the head lines was in perfect 
keeping with them. He noticed in two columns that 
the reporters’ name appeared signed at the bot- 
tom. x\nd there was a distinct advance in the dig- 
nity and style of their contributions. 

“So Norman is beginning to get his reporters to 
sign their work. He has talked with me about 
that. It is a good thing. It fixes responsibility 
for items where it belongs and raises the standard 
of work done. A good thing all around for the 
public and the writers.” 

Maxwell suddenly paused. His wife looked up 
from some work she was doing. He was reading 
something with the utmost interest. “Listen to 
this, Mary,” he said, after a moment while his lip 
trembled : 

This morning Alexander Powers, Superintendent of 
the L. and T. R. R. shops in this city, handed in his 
resignation to the road, and gave as his reason the 
fact that certain proof had fallen into his hands of the 
violation of the Interstate Commerce Law, and also of 
the state law which has recently been framed to pre- 
vent and punish railroad pooling for the benefit of 
certain favored shippers. Mr. Powers states in his 
resignation that he can no longer consistently with- 
hold the information he possesses against the road. 
He will be a witness against it. He has placed his 
evidence against the company in the hands of the 
Commission and it is now for them to take action 
upon it. 

The News wishes to express itself on this action of 
Mr. Powers. In the first place he has nothing to gain 
by it. He has lost a very valuable place voluntarily, 
when by keeping silent he might have retained it. In 


88 


In His Steps. 

the second place we believe his action ought to receive 
the approval of all thoughtful, honest citizens who be- 
lieve in seeing law obeyed and lawbreakers brought to 
justice. In a case like this, where evidence against a 
railroad company is generally understood to be 
almost impossible to obtain, it is the general belief 
that the officers of the road are often in possession of 
criminating facts but do not consider it to be any of 
their business to inform the authorities that the law 
is being defied. The entire result of this evasion of 
responsibility on the part of those who are respon- 
sible is demoralizing to every young man connected 
with the road. The editor of the News recalls the 
statement made by a prominent railroad official in 
this city a little while ago, that nearly every clerk in 
a certain department of the road understood that 
large sums of money were made by shrewd violations 
of the Interstate Commerce Law, was ready to admire 
the shrewdness with which it was done, and declared 
that they would all do the same thing if they were 
high enough in railroad circles to attempt it.* 

It is not necessary to say that such a condition of 
business is destructive to all the nobler and higher 
standards of conduct, and no young man can live in 
such an atmosphere of unpunished dishonesty and 
lawlessness without wrecking his character. 

In our judgment, Mr. Powers did the only thing 
that a Christian man could do. He has rendered 
brave and useful service to the state and the general 
public. It is not always an easy matter to determine 
the relations that exist between the individual citizen 
„ and his fixed duty to the public. In this case there is 
' no doubt in our minds that the step which Mr. Powers 
has taken commends itself to every man who believes 
in law and its enforcement. There are times when 
the individual must act for the people in ways that 
will mean sacrifice and loss to him of the gravest 
character. Mr. Powers will be misunderstood and 
misrepresented, but there is no question that his 
course will be approved by every citizen who wishes 


•[This was actually said in one of the General Offices of a 
great Western railroad, to the author’s knowledge.] 




89 ' 


In His Steps. 

to see the greatest corporations as well as the weakest 
individual subject to the same law. Mr. Powers has 
done all that a loyal, patriotic citizen could do. It 
now remains for the Commission to act upon his evi- 
dence which, we understand, is overwhelming proof 
of the lawlessness of the L. and T. Let the law be 
enforced, no matter who the persons may be who have 
been guilty. 


t 



t . (■ 


90 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Henry Maxwell finished reading and dropped the 
paper. 

“I must go and see Powers. This is the result 
of his promise.” 

He rose, and as he was going out, his wife said: 

“Do you think, Henry, that Jesus would have 
done that?” 

Maxwell paused a moment. Then he answered 
slowly, “Yes, I think He would. At any rate, 
Powers has decided so and each one of us who made 
the promise understands that he is not deciding 
J esus’ conduct for any one else, only for himself.” 

“How about his family ? How will Mrs. Powers 
and Celia be likely to take it?” 

“Very hard, Fve no doubt. That will be Pow- 
ers’s cross in this matter. They will not under- 
stand his motive.” 

Maxwell went out and walked over to the next 
block where Superintendent Powers lived. To his 
relief, Powers himself came to the door. 

The two men shook hands silently. They in- 
stantly understood each other without words. 
There had never before been such a bond of union 
between the minister and his parishioner. 

“What are you going to do?” Henry Maxwell 
asked after they had talked over the facts in the 
case. 

“You mean another position? I have no plans 
yet. I can go back to my old work as a telegraph 


In His Steps. 91 

operator. My family will not suffer, except in a 
social way.” 

Powers spoke calmly and sadly. Henry Max- 
well did not need to ask him how the wife and 
daughter felt. He knew well enough that the 
superintendent had suffered deepest at that point. 

“There is one matter I wish you would see to,” 
said Powers after awhile, “and that is, the work 
begun at the shops. So far as I know, the com- 
pany will not object to that going on. It is one of 
the contradictions of the railroad world that Y. M. 
C. A. ? s and other Christian influences are encour- 
aged by the roads, while all the time the most un- 
Christian and lawless acts may be committed in the 
official management of the roads themselves. Of 
course it is well understood that it .pays a rail- 
road to have in its employ men who are temperate, 
honest and Christian. So I have no doubt the 
master mechanic will have the same courtesy shown 
him in the use of the room. But what I want you 
to do, Mr. Maxwell, is to see that my plan is car- 
ried out. Will you? You understand what it was 
in general. You made a very favorable impres- 
sion on the men. Go down there as often as you 
can. Get Milton Wright interested to provide 
something for the furnishing and expense of the 
coffee plant and reading tables. Will you do it?” 

“Yes,” replied Henry Maxwell. He stayed a lit- 
tle longer. Before he went away, he and the su- 
perintendent had a prayer together, and they parted 
with that silent hand grasp that seemed to. them 
like a new token of their Christian discipleship and 
fellowship. 

The pastor of the First Church went home stirred 
deeply by the events of the week. Gradually the 


92 


In His Steps. 

truth was growing upon him that the pledge to 
do as Jesus would was working out a revolution in 
his parish and throughout the city. Every day 
added to the serious results of obedience to that 
pledge. Maxwell did not pretend to see the end. 
He was, in fact, only now at the very beginning 
of events that were destined to change the history 
of hundreds of families not only in Raymond but 
throughout the entire country. As he thought of 
Edward Norman and Rachel and Mr. Powers, and 
of the results that had already come from their 
actions, he could not help a feeling of intense in- 
terest in the probable effect* if all the persons in 
the First Church who had made the pledge, faith- 
fully kept it. Would they all keep it, or would 
some of thejn turn back when the cross became 
too heavy? 

He was asking this question the next morning as 
he sat in his study when the President of the En- 
deavor Society of his church called to see him. 

“I suppose I ought not to trouble you with my 
case,” said young Morris coming at once to his 
errand, “but I thought, Mr. Maxwell, that you 
might advise me a little.” 

“Fm glad you came. Go on, Fred.” He had 
known the young man ever since his first year in 
the pastorate, and loved and honored him for his 
consistent, faithful service in the church. 

“Well, the fact is, I am out of a job. You know 
Pve been doing reporter work on the morning 
Sentinel since I graduated last year. Well, last 
Saturday Mr. Burr asked me to go down the road 
Sunday morning and get the details of that train 
robbery at the Junction, and write the thing up 
for the extra edition that came out Monday morn- 


93 


In His Steps. 

ing, just to get the start of the News. I refused 
to go, and Burr gave me my dismissal. He was 
in a bad temper, or I think perhaps he would not 
have done it. He has always treated me well be- 
fore. Now, do you think Jesus would have done as 
I did? I ask because the other fellows say I was 
a fool not to do the work. I want to feel that a 
Christian acts from motives that may seem strange 
. to others sometimes, but not foolish. What do 
you think?” 

“I think you kept your promise, Fred. I can- 
not believe Jesus would do newspaper reporting on 
Sunday as you were asked to do it.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. I felt a little 
troubled over it, hut the longer I think it over the 
better I feel.” , 

Morris rose to go, and his pastor rose and laid 
a loving hand on the young man’s shoulder. 

“What are you going to do, Fred ?” 

“I don’t know yet. I have thought some of 
going to Chicago or some large city.” 

“Why don’t you try the News 

“They are all supplied. I have not thought of 
applying there.” 

Maxwell thought a moment. “Come down to 
.the News office with me, and let us see Norman 
* about it.” 

So a few minutes later Edward Norman re- 
ceived into his room the minister and young Mor- 
ris, and Maxwell briefly told the cause of the er- 
rand. # ' 

“I can give you a place on the News ” said Nor- 
man with his keen look softened by a smile that 
made it winsome. “I want reporters who won’t 
work Sundays. And what is more, I am making 


94 


In Ilis Steps. 

plans for a special kind of reporting which I be- 
lieve you can develop because you are in sympathy 
with what Jesus would do.” 

He assigned Morris a definite task, and Maxwell 
started back to his study, feeling that kind of sat- 
isfaction (and it is a very deep kind) which a man 
feels when he has been even partly instrumental 
in finding an unemployed person a remunerative 
position. 

He had intended to go right to his study, but on 
his way home he passed by one of Milton Wright’s t 
stores. He thought he would simply step in and 
shake hands with his parishioner and bid him 
God-speed in what he had heard he was doing to 
put Christ into his business. But when he went 
into the office, Wright insisted on detaining him to 
talk over some of his new plans. Maxwell asked 
himself if this was the Milton Wright he used to 
know, eminently practical, business-like, according 
to the regular code of the business world, and view- 
ing every thing first and foremost from the stand- 
point of, “Will it pay?” 

“There is no use to disguise the fact, Mr. Max- 
well, that I have been compelled to revolutionize 
the entire method of my business since I made that 
promise. I have been doing a great many things 
during the last twenty years in this store that I 
know Jesus would not do. But that is a small 
item compared with the number of things I begin 
to believe Jesus would do. My sins of commis- 
sion have not been as many as those of omission 
in business relations.” 

“What was the first change you made?” He felt 
as if his sermon could wait for him in his study. 
As the interview with Milton Wright continued, 


In His Steps. 1)5 

he was not so sure but that he had found material 
for a sermon without going hack to his study. 

“I think the first change I had to make was in 
my thought of my employees. I came down here 
Monday morning after that Sunday and asked 
myself, ‘What would Jesus do in his relation to 
these clerks, bookkeepers, office-boys, draymen, 
salesmen? Would He try to establish some sort of 
personal relation to them different from that which 
I have sustained all these years ?’ I soon answered 
this by saying ‘Yes. ? Then came the question of 
what that relation would be and what it would lead 
me to do. I did not see how I could answer it to 
my satisfaction without getting all my employees 
together and having a talk with them. So I sent 
invitations to all of them, and we had a meeting 
out there in the warehouse Tuesday night. A 
good many things came out of that meeting. I 
canT tell you all. I tried to talk with the men as 
I imagined Jesus might. It was hard work, for 
I have not been in the habit of it, and must have 
made some mistakes. But I can hardly make you 
believe, Mr. Maxwell, the effect of that meeting on 
some of the men. Before it closed I saw more 
than a dozen of them with tears on their faces. I 
kept asking, ‘What would Jesus do?* and the more 
I asked it, the farther along it pushed me into the 
most intimate and loving relations with the men 
who have worked for me all these years. Every 
day something new is coming up and I am right 
now in the midst of a reconstruction of the entire 
business so far as its motive for being conducted 
is concerned. I am so practically ignorant of all 
plans for co-operation and its application to busi- 
ness that I am trying to get information from every 


96 


In His Steps. 

possible source. I have lately made a special 
study of the life of Titus Salt, the great mill- 
owner of Bradford, England, who afterward built 
that model town on the banks of the Aire. There 
is a good deal in his plans that will help me. But 
I have not yet reached definite conclusions in re- 
gard to all the details. I am not enough used to 
Jesus’ methods. But see here.” 

Wright eagerly reached up into one of the pigeon 
holes of his desk and took out a paper. 

“I have sketched out what seems to me like a 
program such as Jesus might go by in a business 
like mine. I want you to tell me what you think 
of it: 

“WHAT JESUS WOULD PROBABLY DO IN MILTON WRIGHT’S 
PLACE AS A BUSINESS MAN.” 

1. He would engage in the business first of all for 
the purpose of glorifying God, and not for the pri- 
mary purpose of making money. 

2. All money that might be made he would never re- 
gard as his own, but as trust funds to be used for the 
good of humanity. 

3. His relations with all the persons in his employ 
would be the most loving and helpful. He could not 
help thinking of all of them in the light of souls to be 
saved. This thought would always be greater than 
his thought of making money in the business. 

4. He would never do a single dishonest or question- 
able thing or try in any remotest way to get the ad- 
vantage of any one else in the same business. 

5. The principle of unselfishness and helpfulness in 
the business would direct all its details. 

6. Upon this principle he would shape the entire 
plan of his relations to his employees, to the people 
who were his customers and to the general business 
world with which he was connected. 

Henry Maxwell read this over slowly. It re- 


In His Steps. 97 

minded him of his own attempts the day before to 
put into a concrete form his thought of Jesus’ prob- 
able action. He was very thoughtful as he looked 
up and met Wright’s eager gaze. 

“Do you believe you can continue to make your 
business pay on these lines ?” 

“I do. Intelligent unselfishness ought to be 
wiser than intelligent selfishness, don’t you think? 
If the men who work as employees begin to feel a 
personal share in the profits of the business and, 
more than that, a personal love for themselves on 
the part of the firm, won’t the result be more care, 
less waste, more diligence, more faithfulness?” 

“Yes, I think so. A good many other business 
men don’t, do they? I mean as a general thing. 
How about your relations to the selfish world that 
is not trying to make money on Christian princi- 
ples ?” 

“That complicates my action, of course.” 

“Does your plan contemplate what is coming to 
be known as co-operation?” 

“Yes, as far as I have gone, it does. As I told 
you, I am studying out my details carefully. I am 
absolutely convinced that Jesus in my place would 
be absolutely unselfish. He would love all these 
men in His employ. He would consider the main 
purpose of all the business to be a mutual helpful- 
ness, and would conduct it all so that God’s king- 
dom would be evidently the first object sought. 
On those general principles, as I say, I am working. 
I must have time to complete the details.” 

When Maxwell finally left he was profoundly im- 
pressed with, the revolution that was being wrought 
already in the business. As he passed out of the 
store he caught something of the new spirit of 


98 


In His Steps. 

the place. There was no mistaking the fact that 
Milton Wright’s new relations to his employees 
were beginning even so soon, after less than two 
weeks, to transform the entire business. This was 
apparent in the conduct and faces of the clerks. 

“If he keeps on he will be one of the most influ- 
ential preachers in Raymond,” said Maxwell to 
himself when he reached his study. The question 
rose as to this continuance in this course when he 
began to lose money by it, as was possible. He 
prayed that the Holy Spirit, who had shown Him- 
self with growing power in the company of First 
Church disciples, might abide long with them all. 
And with that prayer on his lips and in his heart 
he began the preparation of a sermon in which 
he was going to present to his people on Sunday 
the subject of the saloon in Raymond, as he now 
believed Jesus would do. He had never preached 
against the saloon in this way before. He knew 
that the things he should say would lead to serious 
results. Nevertheless, he Went on with his work, 
and every sentence he wrote or shaped was pre- 
ceded with the question, “Would Jesus say that?” 
Once in the course of his study, he went down on 
his knees. No one except himself could know 
what that meant to him. When had he done that 
in his preparation of sermons, before the change 
that had come into his thought of discipleship ? 
As he viewed his ministry now, he did not dare 
preach without praying long for wisdom. He no 
longer thought of his dramatic delivery and its 
effect on his audience. The great question with 
him now was, “What would J esus do ?” 

Saturday night at the Rectangle witnessed some 
of the most remarkable scenes that Mr. Gray and 


99 


In His Steps. 

his wife had ever known. The meetings had in- 
tensified with each night of Rachel's singing. A 
stranger passing through the Rectangle in the day- 
time might have heard a good deal about the meet- 
ings in one way and another. It cannot he said 
that up to that Saturday night there was any ap- 
preciable lack of oaths and impurity and heavy 
drinking. The Rectangle would not have acknowl- 
edged that it was growing any better or that even 
the singing had softened its outward manner. It 
had too much local pride in being “tough.” BuD 
in spite of itself there was a yielding to a power it \ 
had never measured and did not know well enough* 
to resist beforehand. 

Gray had recovered his voice so that by Saturday 
he was able to speak. The fact that he was ob- 
liged to use his voice carefully made it necessary 
for the people to be very quiet if they wanted to 
hear. Gradually they had come to understand 
that this man was talking these many weeks and 
giving his time and strength to give them a knowl- 
edge of a Saviour, all out of a perfectly unselfish 
love for them. To-night the great crowd was as 
quiet as Henry Maxwell’s decorous audience ever 
was. The fringe around the tent was deeper and 
the saloons were practically empty. The Holy 
Spirit had come at last, and Gray knew that one 
of the great prayers of his life was going to he 
answered. 

And Rachel — her singing was the best, most 
wonderful, that Virginia or Jasper Chase had ever 
known. They came together again to-night, this 
time with Dr. West, who had spent all his spare 
time that week in the Rectangle with some charity 
cases. Virginia was at the organ, Jasper sat on a 


100 In His Steps. 

front seat looking np at Rachel, and the Rectangle 
swayed as one man towards the platform as she 
sang: 

“Just as I am, without one plea, 

But that Thy blood was shed for me, 

And that Thou bidst me come to Thee, 

O Lamb of God, I come, I come.” 

Gray hardly said a word. He stretched out his 
hand with a gesture of invitation. And down the 
two aisles of the tent, broken, sinful creatures, 
men and women, stumbled towards the platform. 
One woman out of the street was near the organ. 
Virginia caught the look of her face, and for the 
first time in the life of the rich girl the thought 
of what Jesus was to the sinful woman came with 
a suddenness and power that was like nothing but 
a nejv birth. Virginia left the organ, went to 
her, looked into her face and caught her hands in 
her own. The other girl trembled, then fell on 
her knees sobbing, with her head down upon the 
back of the rude bench in front of her, still cling- 
ing to Virginia. And Virginia, after a moment’s 
hesitation, kneeled down by her and the two heads 
were bowed close together. 

But when the people had crowded in a double 
row all about the platform, most of them kneeling 
and crying, a man in evening dress, different from 
the others, pushed through the seats and came and 
kneeled down by the side of the drunken man who 
had disturbed the meeting when Maxwell spoke. 
He kneeled within a few feet of Rachel Winslow, 
who was still singing softly. And as she turned 
for a moment and looked in his direction, she was 
amazed to see the face of Rollin Page! For a mo- 
ment her voice faltered. Then she went on : 


101 


In His Steps. 

“Just as I am, thou wilt receive, 

Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve, 
Because Thy promise I believe, 

O Lamb of God, I come, I come.” 

The voice was as the voice of divine longing, 
and the Eectangle for the time being was swept 
into the harbor of redemptive grace. 

7 


< 


102 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER X. 

“If any man serve me, let him follow me.” 

It was nearly midnight before the services at the 
Rectangle closed. Gray stayed np long into Sun- 
day morning, praying and talking with a little 
group of converts who in the great experiences of 
their new life, clung to the evangelist with a per- 
sonal helplessness that made it as impossible for 
him to leave them as if they had been depending 
upon him to save them from physical death. 
Among these converts was Rollin Page. 

Virginia and her uncle had gone home about 
eleven o’clock, and Rachel and Jasper Chase had 
gone with them as far as the avenue where Vir- 
ginia lived. Dr. West had walked on a little way 
with them to his own home, and Rachel and J asper 
had then gone on together to her mother’s. 

That was a little after eleven. It was now strik- 
ing midnight, and Jasper Chase sat in his room 
staring at the papers on his desk and going over the 
last half hour with painful persistence. 

He had told Rachel Winslow of his love for her, 
and she had not given him her love in return. It 
would be difficult to know what was most powerful 
in the impulse that had moved him to speak to her 
to-night. He had yielded to his feelings without 
any special thought of results to himself, because 
he had felt so certain that Rachel would respond to 
his love. He tried to recall the impression she 
made on him when he first spoke to her. 


In His Steps. 105 

Never had her beauty and her strength in- 
fluenced him as to-night. While she was singing 
he saw and heard no one else. The tent swarmed 
with a confused crowd of faces and he knew he was 
sitting there hemmed in by a mob of people, but 
they had no meaning to him. He felt powerless to 
avoid speaking to her. He knew he should speak 
when they were alone. 

Now that he had spoken, he felt that he had mis- 
judged either Rachel or the opportunity. He 
knew, or thought he knew, that she had begun to 
care something for him. It was no secret between 
them that the heroine of Jasper’s first novel had 
been his own ideal of Rachel, and the hero in the 
story was himself and they had loved each other in 
the book, and Rachel had not objected. No one 
else knew. The names and characters had been 
drawn with a subtle skill that revealed to Rachel,, 
when she received a copy of the book from Jasper,, 
the fact of his love for her, and she had not been 
offended. That was nearly a year ago. 

To-night he recalled the scene between them with 
every inflection and movement unerased from his 
memory. He even recalled the fact that he began 
to speak just at that point on the avenue where, a 
few days before, he had met Rachel walking with 
Rollin Page. He had wondered at the time what*. 
Rollin was saying. 

“Rachel,” Jasper had said, and it was the first 
time he had ever spoken her first name, “I never 
knew till to-night how much I loved you. Why 
should I try to conceal any longer what you have 
seen me look? You know I love you as my life. 

I can no longer hide it from you if I would.” 

The first intimation he had of a repulse was the 


104 


In His Steps. 

trembling of RachePs arm in his. She had al- 
lowed him to speak and had neither turned her face 
toward him nor away from him. She had looked 
straight on and her voice was sad but firm and 
quiet when she spoke. 

“Why do you speak to me now? I cannot bear 
it — after what we have seen to-night.” 

“Why — what — ” he had stammered and then 
was silent. 

Rachel withdrew her arm from his but still 
walked near him. Then he had cried out with the 
anguish of one who begins to see a great loss facing 
him where he expected a great joy. 

“Rachel ! Do you not love me ? Is not my love 
for you as sacred as anything in all of life itself ?” 

She had walked silent for a few steps after that. 
They passed a street lamp. Her face was pale and 
beautiful. He had made a movement to clutch her 
nrm and she had moved a little farther from him. 

“No,” she had replied. “There was a time — I 
cannot answer for that — you should not have 
spoken to me — now.” 

He bad seen in these words his answer. He was 
extremely sensitive. Nothing short of a joyous re- 
sponse to his own love would ever have satisfied 
him. He could not think of pleading with her. 

“Some time — when 1 am more worthy ?” he had 
asked in a low voice, but she did not seem to hear, 
and they had parted at her home, and he recalled 
vividly the fact that no good-night had been said. 

Now as he went over the brief but significant 
scene he lashed himself for his foolish precipitancy. 
He had not reckoned on RachePs tense, passionate 
absorption of all her feeling in the scenes at the 
tent which were so new in her mind. But he 


105 - 


In His Steps. 

did not know her well enough even yet to under- 
stand the meaning of her refusal. When the- 
clock in the First Church struck one he was still 
sitting at his desk staring at the last page of manu- 
script of his unfinished novel. 

Kachel went up to her room and faced her even- 
ing’s experience with conflicting emotions. Had 
she ever loved Jasper Chase ? Yes. No. One- 
moment she felt that her life’s happiness was at 
stake over the result of her action. Another, she 
had a strange feeling of relief that she had spoken 
as she had. There was one great, over-mastering- 
feeling in her. The response of the wretched crea- 
tures in the tent to her singing, the swift, powerful, 
awesome presence of the Holy Spirit had affected 
her as never in all her life before. The moment 
Jasper had spoken her name and she realized that 
he was telling her of his love she had felt a sudden 
revulsion for him, as if he should have respected 
the supernatural events they had just witnessed. 
She felt as if it was not the time to be absorbed in 
anything less than the divine glory of those conver- 
sions. The thought that all the time she was sing- 
ing, with the one passion of her soul to touch the 
conscience of that tent full of sin, Jasper Chase 
had been unmoved by it except to love her for her- 
self, gave her a shock as of irreverence on her part . 
as well as on his. She could not tell why she felt 
as she did, only she knew that if he had not told her 
to-night she would still have felt the same toward 
him as she always had. What was that feeling? 
What had he been to her? Had she made a mis- 
take ? She went to her book case and took out the 
novel which Jasper had given her. Her face deep- 
ened in color as she turned to certain passages 


106 In His Steps. 

which she had read often and which she knew J as- 
per had written for her. She read them again. 
Somehow they failed to touch her strongly. She 
closed the book and let it lie on the table. She 
gradually felt that her thought was busy with the 
sights she had witnessed in the tent. Those faces, 
men and women, touched for the first time with the 
Spirit’s glory — what a wonderful thing life was 
after all ! The complete regeneration revealed in 
the sight of drunken, vile, debauched humanity 
kneeling down to give itself to a life of purity and 
Christlikeness — oh, it was surely a witness to the 
superhuman in the world ! And the face of Rollin 
Page by the side of that miserable wreck out of 
the gutter ! She could recall as if she now saw it, 
Virginia crying with her arms about her brother 
just before she left the tent, and Mr. Gray kneeling 
close by, and the girl Virginia had taken into her 
heart while she whispered something to her before 
she went out. All these pictures drawn by the 
Holy Spirit in the human tragedies brought to a 
climax there in the most abandoned spot in all 
Raymond, stood out in Rachel’s memory now, a 
memory so recent that her room seemed for the 
time being to contain all the actors and their move- 
ments. 

“No ! No !” she said aloud. “He had no right to 
speak after all that ! He should have respected the 
place where our thoughts should have been. I am 
sure I do not love him — not enough to give him my 
life !” 

And after she had thus spoken, the evening’s ex- 
perience at the tent came crowding in again, 
-thrusting out all other things. It is perhaps the 
most striking evidence of the tremendous spiritual 


In His Steps. 107 

factor which had now entered the Rectangle that 
Rachel felt, even when the great love of a strong 
man had come very near to 'her, that the spiritual 
manifestation moved her with an agitation far 
greater than anything J asper had felt for her per- 
sonally or she for him. 

The people of Raymond aw~oke Sunday morning 
to a growing knowledge of events which were be- 
ginning to revolutionize many of the regular, cus- 
tomary habits of the town. Alexander Powers’ 
action in the matter of the railroad frauds had 
created a sensation not only in Raymond but 
throughout the country. Edward Nor man’s daily 
changes of policy in the conduct of his paper had 
startled the community and caused more comment 
than any recent political event. Rachel Winslow’s 
singing at the Rectangle meetings had made a stir 
in society and excited the wonder of all her friends. 

Virginia’s conduct, her presence every night 
with Rachel, her absence from the usual circle of 
her wealthy, fashionable acquaintances, had fur- 
nished a great deal of material for gossip and ques- 
tion. In addition to these events which centered 
about these persons who were so well known, there 
had been all through the city in very many homes 
and in business and social circles strange happen- 
ings. Nearly one hundred persons in Henry Max- 
well’s church had made the pledge to do everything 
after asking: “What would Jesus do?” and the re- 
sult had been, in many cases, unheard-of actions. 
The city was stirred as it had never been before. 
As a climax to the week’s events had come the 
spiritual manifestation at the Rectangle, and the 
announcement which came to most people before 
church time of the actual conversion at the tent of 


108 In His Steps. 

nearly fifty of the worst characters in that neigh- 
borhood, together with the conversion of Rollin 
Page, the well-known society and club man. 

It is no wonder that under the pressure of all 
this the First Church of Raymond came to the 
morning service in a condition that made it quickly 
sensitive to any large truth. Perhaps nothing had 
astonished the people more than the great change 
that had come over the minister, since he had pro- 
posed to them the imitation of Jesus in conduct. 
The dramatic delivery of his sermons no longer im- 
pressed them. The . self-satisfied, contented, easy 
attitude of the fine figure and refined face in the 
pulpit had been displaced by a manner that could 
not be compared with the old style of his delivery. 
The sermon had become a message. It was no 
longer delivered. It was brought to them with a 
love, an earnestness, a passion, a desire, a humility 
that poured its enthusiasm about the truth and 
made the speaker no more prominent than he had 
to be as the living voice of God. His prayers were 
unlike any the people had heard before. They 
were often broken, even once or twice they had been 
actually ungrammatical in a phrase or two. When 
had Henry Maxwell so far forgotten himself in a 
prayer as to make a mistake of that sort? He 
knew that he had often taken as much pride in the 
diction and delivery of his prayers as of his ser- 
mons. Was it possible he now so abhorred the ele- 
gant refinement of a formal public petition that he 
purposely chose to rebuke himself for his previous 
precise manner of prayer ? It is more likely that 
he had no thought of all that. His great longing 
to .voice the needs and wants of his people made 
him unmindful of an occasional mistake. It is 


In His Steps. 109 

certain that he had never prayed so effectively as he 
did now. 

There are times when a sermon has a value and 
power due to conditions in the audience rather 
than to anything new or startling or eloquent in 
the words said or arguments presented. Such con- 
ditions faced Henry Maxwell this morning as he 
preached against the saloon, according to his pur- 
pose determined on the week before. He had no 
new statements to make about the evil influence of 
the saloon in Raymond. What new facts were 
there? He had no startling illustrations of the 
power of the saloon in business or politics. What 
could he say that had not been said by temperance 
orators a great many times? The effect of his 
message this morning owed its . power to the un- 
usual fact of his preaching about the saloon at all, 
together with the events that had stirred the peo- 
ple. He had never in the course of his ten years’ 
pastorate mentioned the saloon as something to be 
regarded in the light of an enemy, not only to the 
poor and tempted, but to the business life of the 
place and the church itself. He spoke now with a 
freedom that seemed to measure his complete sense 
of conviction that Jesus would speak so. At the 
close he pleaded with the people to remember the 
new life that had begun at the Rectangle. The 
regular election of city officers was near at hand. 
The question of license would be an issue in the 
election. What of the poor creatures surrounded 
by the hell of drink while just beginning to feel the 
joy of deliverance from sin? Who could tell what 
depended on their environment ? Was there one 
word to be said by the Christian disciple, business 
man, citizen, in favor of continuing the license to 


110 


In His Steps. 

crime and shame-producing institutions? Was 
not the most Christian thing they could do to act as 
citizens in the matter, fight the saloon at the polls, 
elect good men to the city offices, and clean the 
municipality? How much had prayers helped to 
make Raymond better while votes and actions had 
really been on the side of the enemies of Jesus? 
Would not Jesus do this? What disciple could 
imagine Him refusing to suffer or to take up His 
cross in this matter ? How much had the members 
of the First Church ever suffered in an attempt to 
imitate Jesus ? Was Christian discipleship a thing 
of conscience simply, of custom, of tradition? 
Where did the suffering come in? Was it neces- 
sary in order to follow J esus’ steps to go up Calvary 
as well as the Mount of Transfiguration ? 

His appeal was stronger at this point than he 
knew. It is not too much to say that the spiritual 
tension of the people reached its highest point right 
there. The imitation of Jesus which had begun 
with the volunteers in the church was working like 
leaven in the organization, and Henry Maxwell 
would even thus early in his life have been amazed 
if he could have measured the extent of desire on 
the part of his people to take up the cross. While 
he was speaking this morning, before he closed 
with a loving appeal to the discipleship of two 
thousand years’ knowledge of the Master, many a 
man and woman in the church was saying as Ra- 
chel had said so passionately to her mother: “I 
want to do something that will cost me something 
in the way of sacrifice.” “I am hungry to suffer 
something.” Truly, Mazzini was right when he 
said that no appeal is quite so powerful in the end 
as the call : “Come and suffer.” 


Ill 


In His Steps. 

The service was over, the great audience had 
gone, and Maxwell again faced the company gath- 
ered in the lecture room as on the two previous 
Sundays. He had asked all to remain who had 
made the pledge of discipleship, and any others 
who wished to be included. The after service 
seemed now to be a necessity. As he went in and 
faced the people there his heart trembled. There 
were at least one hundred present. The Holy 
Spirit was never before so manifest. He missed 
Jasper Chase. But all the others were present. 
He asked Milton Wright to pray. The very air 
was charged with divine possibilities. What could 
resist such a baptism of power? How had they 
lived all these years without it ? 

They counseled together and there were many 
prayers. Henry Maxwell dated from that meeting 
some of the serious events that afterward became 
a part of the history of the First Church and of 
Raymond. When finally they went home, all of 
them were impressed with the glory of the Spirit's 
power. 


112 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER XI. 

Donald Marsh, President of Lincoln College, 
walked home with Mr. Maxwell. 

“I have reached one conclusion, Maxwell,” said 
Marsh, speaking slowly. “I have found my cross 
and it is a heavy one, but I shall never be satisfied 
until I take it up and carry it.” Maxwell was silent 
and the President went on. 

“Your sermon to-day made clear to me what I 
have long been feeling I ought to do. ‘What 
would Jesus do in my place?’ I have asked the 
question repeatedly since I made my promise. I 
have tried to satisfy myself that He would simply 
go on as I have done, attending to the duties of 
my college work, teaching the classes in Ethics and 
Philosophy. But I have not been able to avoid the 
feeling that He would do something more. That 
something is what I do not want to do. It will 
cause me genuine suffering to do it. I dread it 
with all my soul. You may be able to guess what 
it is.” 

*‘Yes, I think I know. It is my cross too. I 
would almost rather do any thing else.” 

Donald Marsh looked surprised, then relieved. 
Then he spoke sadly but with great conviction : 

“Maxwell, you and I belong to a class of profes- 
sional men who have always avoided the duties of 
citizenship. We have lived in a little world of 
literature and scholarly seclusion, doing work we 
have enjoyed and shrinking from the disagreeable 
duties that belong to the life of the citizen. I con- 


In His Steps. 113 

fess with shame that I have purposely avoided the 
responsibility that I owe to this city personally. I 
understand that our city officials are a corrupt, un- 
principled set of men, controlled in large part by 
the whisky element and thoroughly selfish so far as 
the affairs of city government are concerned. Yet 
all these years I, with, nearly every teacher in the 
college, have been satisfied to let other men run 
the municipality and have lived in a little world of 
my own, out of touch and sympathy with the real 
world of the people. ‘What would J esus do ?’ I have 
even tried to avoid an honest answer. I can no 
longer do so. My plain duty is to take a personal 
part in this coming election, go to the primaries, 
throw the weight of my influence, whatever it is, 
toward the nomination and election of good men, 
and plunge into the very depths of the entire hor- 
rible whirlpool of deceit, bribery, political trickery 
and saloonism as it exists in Raymond to-day. I 
would sooner walk up to the mouth of a cannon 
any time than do this. I dread it because I hate 
the touch of the whole matter. I would give almost 
any thing to be able to say, ‘I do not believe J esus 
would do anything of the sort/ But I am more 
and more persuaded that He would. This is 
where the suffering comes for me. It would 
not hurt me half so much to lose my position or my 
home. I loathe the contact with this municipal 
problem. I would so much prefer to remain quietly 
in my scholastic life with my classes in Ethics and 
Philosophy. But the call has come to me so plainly 
that I cannot escape. ‘Donald Marsh, follow me. 
Do your duty as a citizen of Raymond at the point 
where your citizenship will cost you something. 
Help to cleanse this municipal stable, even if you 


114 


In His Steps. 

do have to soil your aristocratic feelings a little/ 
Maxwell, this is my cross, I must take it up or deny 
my Lord.” 

“You have spoken for me also,” replied Maxwell 
with a sad smile. “Why should I, simply because 
I am a minister, shelter myself behind my refined, 
sensitive feelings, and like a coward refuse to touch, 
except in a sermon possibly, the duty of citizen- 
ship ? I am unused to the ways of the political life 
of the city. I have never taken an active part in 
any nomination of good men. There are hundreds 
of ministers like me. As a class we do not prac- 
tise in the municipal life the duties and privileges 
we preach from the pulpit. ‘What would Jesus 
do?’ I am now at a point where, like you, I am 
driven to answer the question one way. My duty 
is plain. I must suffer. All my parish work, all 
my little trials or self-sacrifices are as nothing 
to me compared with the breaking into my schol- 
arly, intellectual, self-contained habits, of this 
open, coarse, public fight for a clean city life. I 
could go and live at the Eectangle the rest of my 
life and work in the slums for a bare living, and I 
could enjoy it more than the thought of plunging 
into a fight for the reform of this whisky-ridden 
city. It would cost me less. But, like you, I have 
been unable to shake off my responsibility. The an- 
swer to the question ‘What would Jesus do V in this 
case leave me no peace except when I say, Jesus 
would have me act the part of a Christian citizen. 
Marsh, as you say, we professional men, ministers, 
professors, artists, literary men, scholars, have 
almost invariably been political cowards. We have 
avoided the sacred duties of citizenship either 
ignorantly or selfishly. Certainly Jesus in our age 


115 


In His Steps. 

would not do that. We can do no less than take up 
this cross, and follow him.” 

The two men walked on in silence for a while. 
Finally President Marsh said: 

“We do not need to act alone in this matter. With 
all the men who have made the promise we cer- 
tainly can have companionship, and strength even, 
of numbers. Let ns organize the Christian forces of 
Raymond for the battle against rum and corrup- 
tion. We certainly ought to enter the primaries 
with a force that will be able to do more than enter 
a protest. It is a fact that the saloon element is 
cowardly and easily frightened in spite of its law- 
lessness and corruption. Let us plan a campaign 
that will mean something because it is organized 
righteousness. Jesus would use great wisdom in 
this matter. He would employ means. He would 
make large plans. Let us do so. If we hear this 
cross let us do it bravely, like men.” 

They talked over the matter a long time and met 
again the next day in Maxwell’s study to develop 
plans. The city primaries were called for Friday. 
Rumors of strange and unknown events to the 
average citizen were current that week in political 
circles throughout Raymond. The Crawford 
system of balloting for nominations was not in use 
in the state, and the primary was called for a public 
meeting at the court house. 

The citizens of Raymond will never forget that 
meeting. It was so unlike any political meeting 
ever held in Raymond before, that there was no 
attempt at comparison. The special officers to be 
nominated were mayor, city council, chief of police, 
city clerk and city treasurer. 

The evening News in its Saturday edition gave 


116 In His Steps. 

a full account of the primaries, and in the editorial 
columns Edward Norman spoke with a directness 
and conviction that the Christian people of Ray- 
mond were learning to respect deeply* because it 
was so evidently sincere and unselfish. A part of 
that editorial is also a part of this history. We 
quote the following: 

“It is safe to say that never before in the history 
of Raymond was there a primary like the one in 
the court house last night. It was, first of all, a 
complete surprise to the city politicians who have 
been in the habit of carrying on the affairs of the 
city as if they owned them, and every one else was 
simply a tool or a cipher. The overwhelming sur- 
prise of the wire pullers last night consisted in the 
fact that a large number of the citizens of Ray- 
mond who have heretofore taken no part in the 
city’s affairs, entered the primary and controlled it, 
nominating some of the best men for all the offices 
to be filled at the coming election. 

“It was a tremendous lesson in good citizenship. 
President Marsh of Lincoln College, who never be- 
fore entered a city primary, and whose face was not 
even known to the ward politicians, made one of 
the best speeches ever made in Raymond. It was 
almost ludicrous to see the faces of the men who 
for years have done as they pleased, when Presi- 
dent Marsh arose to speak. Many of them asked, j 
‘Who is he? ? . The consternation deepened as the* 
primary proceeded and it became evident that the 
old-time ring of city rulers was outnumbered. 
Rev. Henry Maxwell of the First Church, Milton 
Wright, Alexander Powers, Professors Brown, 
Willard and Park of Lincoln College, Dr. West, 
Rev. George Main of the Pilgrim Church, Dean 


117 


In His Steps. 

Ward of the Holy Trinity, and scores of well- 
known business men and professional men, most 
of them chnrch members, were present, and it did 
not take long to see that they had all come with 
the one direct and definite purpose of nominating 
the best men possible. Most of these men had. 
never before been seen in a primary. They were 
complete strangers to the politicians. But they 
had evidently profited by the politician’s methods 
and were able by organized and united effort to 
nominate the entire ticket. • * 

“As soon as it became plain that the primary 
was out of their control the regular ring withdrew 
in disgust and nominated another ticket. The 
News simply calls the attention of all decent citi- 
zens to the fact that this last ticket contains the 
names of whisky men, and the line is sharply and 
distinctly drawn between the saloon and corrupt 
management such as we have known for years, and 
a clean, honest, capable, business-like city adminis- 
tration such as every good citizen ought to want. 
It is not necessary to remind the people of Ray- 
mond that the question of local option comes up at 
the election. That will be the most important 
question on the ticket. The crisis of our city af- 
fairs has been reached. The issue is squarely be- 
fore us. Shall we continue the rule of rum and 
boodle and shameless incompetency, or shall we, 
as President Marsh said in his noble speech, rise 
as good citizens and begin a new order of things, 
cleansing our city of the worst enemy known to 
municipal honesty, and doing what lies in our 
power to do with the ballot to purify our civic life ? 

“The News is positively and without reservation 
on the side of the new movement. We shall hence- 
8 


118 


In His Steps. 

forth do all in onr power to drive out the saloon 
and destroy its political strength. We shall advo- 
cate the election of the men nominated by the 
majority of citizens met in the first primary and 
we call upon all Christians, church members, lovers 
of right, purity, temperance, and the home, to 
stand by President Marsh and the rest of the citi- 
zens who have thus begun a long-needed reform in 
our city.” 

President Marsh read this editorial and thanked 
God for Edward Norman. At the same time he 
understood well enough that every other paper in 
^Raymond was on the other side. He did not un- 
derestimate the importance and seriousness of the 
fight which was only just begun. It was no secret 
that the News had lost enormously since it had 
been governed by the standard of “What would 
Jesus do?” The question now was, Would the 
Christian people of Raymond stand by it? Would 
they make it possible for Norman to conduct a 
daily Christian paper? Or would the desire for 
what is called news in the way of crime, scandal, 
political partisanship of the regular sort, and a dis- 
like to champion so remarkable a reform in jour- 
nalism, influence them to drop the paper and refuse 
to give it their financial support? That was, in 
fact, the question Edward Norman was asking 
even while he wrote that Saturday editorial. He 
knew well enough that his action expressed in that 
editorial would cost him very heavily from the 
hands of many business men in Raymond. And 
still, as he drove his pen over the paper, he asked 
another question, “What would Jesus do?” That 
question had beeome a part of his whole life now. 
It was greater than any other. 


In His Steps. 119 

But for the first time in its history Raymond had 
seen the professional men, the teachers, the college 
professors, the doctors, the ministers, take political 
action and put themselves definitely and sharply in 
public antagonism to the evil forces that had so 
long controlled the machine of the municipal gov- 
ernment. The fact itself was astounding. Presi- 
dent Marsh acknowledged to himself with a feeling 
of humiliation, that never before had he known 
what civic righteousness could accomplish. From 
that Friday night’s work he dated for himself and 
his college a new definition of the worn phrase* 
“the scholar in politics.” Education for him and 
those who were under his influence ever after 
meant some element of suffering. Sacrifice must 
now enter into the factor of development. 

At the Rectangle that week the tide of spiritual 
life rose high, and as yet showed no signs of flowing 
back. Rachel and Virginia went every night. 
Virginia was rapidly reaching a conclusion with 
respect to a large part of her money. She had 
talked it over with Rachel and they had been able 
to agree that if Jesus had a vast amount of money 
at His disposal He might do with some of it as 
Virginia planned. At any rate they felt that 
whatever He might do in such case would have as 
large an element of variety in it as the differences 
in persons and circumstances. There could be no 
one fixed Christian way of using money. The rule 
that regulated its use was unselfish utility. 

But meanwhile the glory of the Spirit’s power 
possessed all their best thought. Night after night 
that week witnessed miracles as great as walking 
on the sea or feeding the multitude with a few 
loaves and fishes. For what greater miracle is 


120 


In His Steps. 

there than a regenerate humanity? The trans- 
formation of these coarse, brutal, sottish lives into 
praying, rapturous lovers of Christ, struck Rachel 
and Virginia every time with the feeling that 
people may have had when they saw Lazarus walk 
nut of the tomb. It was an experience full of pro- 
found excitement for them. 

Rollin Page came to all the meetings. There 
’ was no doubt of the change that had come over 
him. Rachel had not yet spoken much with him. 
He was wonderfully quiet. It seemed as if he was 
thinking all the time. Certainly he was not the 
same person. He talked more with Gray than 
with any one else. He did not avoid Rachel, but 
Re seemed to shrink from any appearance of seem- 
ing to wish to renew the acquaintance with her. 
Rachel found it even difficult to express to him 
her pleasure at the new life he had begun to know. 
He seemed to be waiting to adjust himself to his 
previous relations before this new life began. He 
had not forgotten those relations. But he was 
not yet able to fit his consciousness into new ones. 

The end of the week found the Rectangle strug- 
gling hard between two mighty opposing forces. 
The Holy Spirit was battling with all His super- 
natural strength against the saloon devil which 
had so long held a jealous grasp on its slaves. If 
the Christian people of Raymond once could realize 
what the contest meant to the souls newly awak- 
ened to a purer life it did not seem possible that 
the election could result in the old system of 
license. But that remained yet to be seen. The 
horror of the daily surroundings of many of the 
converts was slowly burning its way into the 
knowledge of Virginia and Rachel, and every night 


121 


In His Steps. 

as they went uptown to their luxurious homes they 
carried heavy hearts. 

“A good many of these poor creatures will go 
back again,” Gray would say with sadness too 
deep for tears. “The environment does have a 
good deal to do with the character. It does not 
stand to reason that these people can always resist 
the sight and smell of the devilish drink about 
them. 0 Lord, how long shall Christian people 
continue to support by their silence and their bal- 
lots the greatest form of slavery known in 
America ?” 

He asked the question, and did not have much 
hope of an immediate answer. There was a ray of 
hope in the action of Friday nighFs primary, but 
what the result would be he did not dare to antici- 
pate. The whisky forces were organized, alert, ag- 
gressive, roused into unusual hatred by the events 
of the last week at the tent and in the city. Would 
the Christian forces act as a unit against the 
saloon? Or would they be divided on account of 
their business interests or because they were not in 
the habit of acting all together as the whisky 
power always did? That remained to be seen. 
Meanwhile the saloon reared itself about the 
Rectangle like some deadly viper hissing and coil- 
ing, ready to strike its poison into any unguarded 
part. 

Saturday afternoon as Virginia was just step- 
ping out of her house to go and see Rachel to talk 
over her new plans, a carriage drove up containing 
three of her fashionable friends. Virginia went 
out to the drive-way and stood there talking with 
them. They had not come to make a formal call 
but wanted Virginia to go driving with them up 


122 


In His Steps. 

on the boulevard. There was a band concert in 
the park. The day was too pleasant to be spent 
indoors. 

“Where have you been all this time, Virginia ?” 
asked one of the girls, tapping her playfully on the 
shoulder with a red silk parasol. “We hear that 
you have gone into the show business. Tell us 
about it.” 

Virginia colored, but after a moment’s hesita- 
tion she frankly told something of her experience 
at the Rectangle. The girls in the carriage began 
to be really interested. 

“I tell you, girls, let’s go ‘slumming’ with Vir- 
ginia this afternoon intead of going to the band 
concert. I’ve never been down to the Rectangle. 
I’ve heard it’s an awful wicked place and lots to 
-see. Virginia will act as guide, and it would be” — 
“real fun” she was going to say, but Virginia’s look 
made her substitute the word “interesting.” 

Virginia was angry. At first thought she said 
to herself she would never go under such circum- 
stances. The other girls seemed to be of the same 
mind with the speaker. They chimed in with 
earnestness and asked Virginia to take them down 
there. 

- Suddenly she saw in the idle curiosity of the 
girls an opportunity. They had never seen the 
sin and misery of Raymond. Why should they not 
see it, even if their motive in going down there 
was simply to pass away an afternoon. 

“Very well, I’ll go with you. You must obey 
mv orders and let me take you where you can see 
the most,” she said, as she entered the carriage and 
took the seat beside the girl who had first suggested 
the trip to the Rectangle. 


In His Steps. 


123 


CHAPTER XII. 

“For I come to set a man at variance against his 
father, and the daughter against her mother, and the 
daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law ; and a 
man’s foes shall be they of his own household.’’ 

“Be ye therefore imitators of God, as beloved chil- 
[dren; and walk in love, even as Christ also loved 
Jyou.” 

I “Hadn’t we better take a policeman along?” said 
bne of the girls with a nervous laugh. “It really 
isn’t safe down there, you know.” 

“There’s no danger,” said Virginia briefly. 

“Is it true that your brother Rollin has been con- 
verted?” asked the first speaker, looking at Vir- 
ginia curiously. It impressed her during the drive 
to the Rectangle that all three of her friends were 
regarding her with close attention as if she were 
peculiar. 

“Yes, he certainly is.” 

“I understand he is going around to the clubs 
talking with his old friends there, trying to preach 
to them. Doesn’t that seem funny?” said the girl 
with the red silk parasol. 

Virginia did not answer, and the other girls were 
beginning to feel sober as the carriage turned into 
a street leading to the Rectangle. As they neared 
the district they grew more and more nervous. 
The sights and smells and sounds which had be- 
come familiar to Virginia struck the senses of these* 
refined, delicate society girls as something horrible. 
As they entered farther into the district, the Rect- 
angle seemed to stare as with one great, bleary,. 


124 


In His Steps. 

beer-soaked countenance at this fine carriage with 
its load of fashionably dressed young women. 
“Slumming” had never been a fad with Baymond 
society, and this was perhaps the first time that 
the two had come together in this way. The girls 
felt that instead of seeing the Bectangle they were 
being made the objects of curiosity. They were 
frightened and disgusted. 

“Let’s go back. I’ve seen enough,” said the 
girl who was sitting with Virginia. 

They were at that moment just opposite a noto- 
rious saloon and gambling house. The street was 
narrow and the sidewalk crowded. 

Suddenly, out of the door of this saloon a young 
woman reeled. She was singing in a broken, 
drunken sob that seemed to indicate that she partly 
realized her awful condition, “Just as I am, with- 
out one plea” — and as the carriage rolled past she 
leered at it, raising her face so that Virginia saw it 
very close to her own. It was the face of the girl 
who had knelt, sobbing, that night with Virginia 
kneeling beside her and praying for her. 

“Stop!” cried Virginia, motioning to the driver 
who was looking around. The carriage stopped, 
and in a moment she was out and had gone up to 
f the girl and taken her by the arm. “Loreen!” she 
said, and that was all. The girl looked into her 
face, and her own changed into a look of utter 
horror. The girls in the carriage were smitten into 
helpless astonishment. The saloon-keeper had 
come to the door of the saloon and was standing 
there looking on with his hands on his hips. And 
the Bectangle from its windows, its saloon steps, 
its filthy sidewalk, gutter and roadway, paused, 
and with undisguised wonder stared at the two 


125 


In His Steps. 

girls. Over the scene the warm sun of spring 
poured its mellow light. A faint breath of music 
from the hand-stand in the park floated into the 
Rectangle. The concert had begun, and the fash- 
ion and wealth of Raymond were displaying them- 
selves up town on the boulevard. 

When Virginia left the carriage and went up 
to Loreen she had no definite idea as to what she 
would do or what the result of her action would 
be. She simply saw a soul that had tasted of the 
joy of a better life slipping back again into its old 
hell of shame and death. And before she had 
touched the drunken girl’s arm she had asked only 
one question, “What would J esus do ?” That ques- 
tion was becoming with her, as with many others, a 
habit of life. 

She looked around now as she stood close by 
Loreen, and the whole scene was cruelly vivid to 
her. She thought first of the girls in the carriage. 

“Drive on; don’t wait for me. I am going to 
see my friend home,” she said calmly enough. 

The girl with the red parasol seemed to gasp at 
the word “friend,” when Virginia spoke it. She 
did not say anything. The other girls seemed 
speechless. 

“Go on. I cannot go back with you,” said Vir- 
ginia. The driver started the horses slowly. One 
of the girls leaned a little out of the carriage. 

“Can’t we — that is — do you want our help? 
Couldn’t you — ” 

“ISTo, no!” exclaimed Virginia. “You cannot he 
of any help to me.” 

The carriage moved on and Virginia was alone 
with her charge. She looked up and around. 
Many faces in the crowd were sympathetic. They 


126 


In His Steps. 

were not all cruel or brutal. The Holy Spirit had 
softened a good deal of the Rectangle. 

“Where does she live?” asked Virginia. 

No one answered. It occurred to Virginia after- 
ward when she had time to think it over, that the 
Rectangle showed a delicacy in its sad silence that 
would have done credit to the boulevard. For the 
first time it flashed across her that the immortal 
being who was flung like wreckage upon the shore 
of this early hell called the saloon, had no place 
that could be called home. The girl suddenly 
wrenched her arm from Virginia’s grasp. In db- 
ing so she nearly threw Virginia down. 

“You shall not touch me! Leave me! Let me 
go to hell! That’s where I belong! The devil is 
waiting for me. See him!” she exclaimed hoarsely. 
She turned and pointed with a shaking finger at 
the saloon-keeper. The crowd laughed. Virginia 
stepped up to her and put her arm about her. 

“Loreen,” she said firmly, “come with me. You 
do not belong to hell. You belong to Jesus and He 
will save you. Come.” 

The girl suddenly burst into tears. She was 
only partly sobered by the shock of meeting Vir- 
ginia. 

Virginia looked around again. “Where does Mr. 
Gray live?” she asked. She knew that the evan- 
gelist boarded somewhere near the tent. A num- 
ber of voices gave the direction. 

“Come, Loreen, I want you to go with me to 
Mr. Gray’s,” she said, still keeping her hold of the 
swaying, trembling creature who moaned and 
sobbed and now clung to her as firmly as before 
she had repulsed her. 

So the two moved on through the Rectangle 


I 


127 


In His Steps. 

toward the evangelist’s lodging place. The sight 
seemed to impress the Rectangle seriously. It 
never took itself seriously when it was drunk, but 
this was different. The fact that one of the rich- 
est, most beautifully-dressed girls in all Raymond 
was taking care of one of the Rectangle’s most 
noted characters, who reeled along under the in- 
fluence of liquor, was a fact astounding enough to 
throw more or less dignity and importance about 
Loreen herself. The event of Loreen’s stumbling 
through the gutter dead-drunk always made the 
Rectangle laugh and jest. But Loreen staggering 
along with a young lady from the society circles 
uptown supporting her, was another thing. The 
Rectangle viewed it with soberness and more or 
less wondering admiration. 

When they finally reached Mr. Gray’s lodging 
place the woman who answered Virginia’s knock 
said that both Mr. and Mrs. Gray were out some- 
where and would not be back until six o’clock. 

Virginia had not planned anything farther than 
a possible appeal to the Grays, either to take charge 
of Loreen for a while or find some safe place for her 
until she was sober. She stood now at the door after 
the woman had spoken, and she was really at a loss 
to know what to do. Loreen sank down stupidly on 
the steps and buried her face in her arms. Vir- 
ginia eyed the miserable figure of the girl with a 
feeling that she was afraid would grow into dis- 
gust. 

Finally a thought possessed her that she could 
not escape. What was to hinder her from taking 
Loreen home with her? Why should not this 
homeless, wretched creature, reeking with the 
fumes of liquor, be cared for in Virginia’s own 


128 ‘ In His Steps. 

home instead of being consigned to strangers in 
some hospital or house of charity? Virginia really 
knew very little about any such places of refuge. 
As a matter of fact, there were two or three such 
institutions in Raymond, but it is doubtful if any 
of them would have taken a person like Loreen in 
her present condition. But that was not the ques- 
tion with Virginia just now. “What would Jesus 
do with Loreen?” That was what Virginia faced, 
and she finally answered it by touching the girl 
again. 

“Loreen, come. You are going home with me. 
We will take the car here at the corner.” 

Loreen staggered to her feet and, to Virginia’s 
surprise, made no trouble. She had expected re- 
sistance or a stubborn refusal to move. When they 
reached the corner and took the car it was nearly 
full of people going uptown. Virginia was pain- 
fully conscious of the stare that greeted her and 
her companion as they entered. But her thought 
was directed more and more to the approaching 
scene with her grandmother. What would Madam 
Page say? 

Loreen was nearly sober now. But she was laps- 
ing into a state of stupor. Virginia was obliged 
to hold fast to her arm. Several times the girl 
lurched heavily against her, and as the two went up 
the avenue a curious crowd of so-called civilized 
people turned and gazed at them. When she 
mounted the steps of her handsome house Virginia 
breathed a sigh of relief, even in the face of the 
interview with the grandmother, and when the 
door shut and she was in the wide hall with her 
homeless outcast, she felt equal to anything that 
might now come. 


129 


In His Steps. 

Madam Page was in the library. Hearing Vir- 
ginia come in, she came into the hall. Virginia 
. stood there supporting Loreen, who stared stupidly 
at the rich magnificence of the furnishings around 
her. 

“Grandmother,” Virginia spoke without hesi- 
tation and very clearly, “I have brought one of my 
friends from the Rectangle. She is in trouble and 
5 has no home. I am going to care for her here a 
little while.” 

Madam Page glanced from her granddaughter 
to Loreen in astonishment. 

“Did you say she is one of your friends?” she 
asked in a cold, sneering voice that hurt Virginia 
more than anything she had yet felt. 

“Yes, I said so.” Virginia’s face flushed, hut she 
seemed to recall a verse that Mr. Gray had used for 
one of his recent sermons, “A friend of publicans 
and sinners.” Surely, J esus would do this that she 
was doing. 

“Do you know what this girl is ?” asked Madam 
Page in an angry whisper, stepping near Virginia. 

“I know very well. She is an outcast. You need 
not tell me, grandmother. I know it even better 
than you do. She is drunk at this minute. But 
she is also a child of God. I have seen her on her 
knees, repentant. And I have seen hell reach out 
its horrible fingers after her again. And by the 
grace of Christ I feel that the least that 1 can do is 
to rescue her from such peril. Grandmother, we 
call ourselves Christians. Here is a poor, lost hu- 
man creature without a home, slipping back into a 
life of misery and possibly eternal loss, and we have 
more than enough. I have brought her here, and 
I shall keep her.” 


130 In His Steps. 

Madam Page glared at Virginia and clenched 
her hands. All this was contrary to her social code 
of conduct. How could society excuse familiarity 
with the scum of the streets? What would Vir- 
ginia’s action cost the family in the way of criti- 
cism and loss of standing, and all that long list of 
necessary relations which people of wealth and 
position must sustain to the leaders of society? To 
Madam Page society represented more than the 
church or any other institution. It was a power 
to he feared and obeyed. The loss of its good-will 
was a loss more to he dreaded than anything except 
the loss of wealth itself. 

She stood erect and stern and confronted Vir- 
ginia, fully roused and determined. Virginia 
placed her arm about Loreen and calmly looked 
her grandmother in the face. 

“You shall not do this, Virginia! You can send 
her to the Asylum for helpless women. We can 
pay all the expenses. We cannot afford for the 
sake of our reputations to shelter such a person.” 

“Grandmother, I do not wish to do anything 
that is displeasing to you, but I must keep Loreen 
here to-night, and longer if it seems best.” 

“Then you can answer for the consequences! I 
do not stay in the same house with a miserable — ” 
Madam Page lost her self-control. Virginia 
stopped her before she could speak the next word. 

“Grandmother, this house is mine. It is your 
home with me as long as you choose to remain. 
But in this matter I must act as I fully believe 
Jesus would in my place. I am willing to hear all 
that society may say or do. Society is not my God. 
By the side of this poor soul I do not count the 
verdict of society as of any value.” 


131 


In His Steps. 

“I shall not stay here, then !” said Madam Page. 
She turned suddenly and walked to the end of the 
hall. She then came back, and going up to Vir- 
ginia said, with an emphasis that revealed her in- 
tense excitement of passion : 

“You can always remember that you have driven 
your grandmother out of your house in favor of a 
drunken woman;” then, without waiting for Vir- 
ginia to reply, she turned again and went upstairs. 
Virginia called a servant and soon had Loreen 
cared for. She was fast lapsing into a wretched 
condition. During the brief scene in the hall she 
had clung to Virginia so hard that her arm was sore 
from the clutch of the girl’s fingers. 

Virginia did not know whether her grandmother 
would leave the house or not. She had abundant 
means of her own, was perfectly well and vigorous 
and capable of caring for herself. She had sisters 
and brothers living in the South and was in the 
habit of spending several weeks in the year with 
them. Virginia was not anxious about her welfare 
as far as that went. But the interview had been a 
painful one. Going over it, as she did in her room 
before she went down to tea, she found little cause 
for regret. “What would Jesus do?” There was 
no question in her mind that she had done the 
right thing. If she had made a mistake, it was one 
of judgment, not of heart. 


132 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

When the bell rang for tea she went down and 
her grandmother did not appear. She sent a serv- 
ant to her room who brought back word that 
Madam Page was not there. A few minutes later 
Rollin came in. He brought word that his grand- 
mother had taken the evening train for the South. 
He had been at the station to see some friends off, 
and had by chance met his grandmother as he was 
coming out. She had told him her reason for go- 
ing. 

Virginia and Rollin comforted each other at the 
tea table, looking at each other with earnest, sad 
faces. 

“Rollin” said Virginia, and for the first time, 
almost, since his conversion she realized what a 
wonderful thing her brother’s changed life meant 
to her, “do you blame me ? Am I wrong ?” 

“No, dear, I cannot believe you are. This is very 
painful for us. But if you think this poor creature 
owes her safety and salvation to your personal care, 
it was the only thing for you to do. 0 Virginia, 
to think that we have all these years enjoyed our 
beautiful home and all these luxuries selfishly, for- 
getful of the multitudes like this woman ! Surely 
Jesus in our places would do what you have done.” 

And so Rollin comforted Virginia and counseled 
with her that evening. And of all the wonderful 
changes that she henceforth was to know on ac- 
count of her great pledge, nothing affected her so 
powerfully as the thought of Rollin’s change of 


In His Steps. 133 

life. Truly, this man in Christ was a new creature. 
Old things were passed away. Behold, all things 
in him had become new. 

Dr. West came that evening at Virginia’s sum- 
mons and did everything necessary for the outcast. 
She had drunk herself almost into delirium. The 
best that could be done for her now was quiet nurs- 
ing and careful watching and personal love. So, in 
a beautif ul room, with a picture of Christ walking 
by the Sea hanging on the wall, where her bewil- 
dered eyes caught daily something more of its hid- 
den meaning, Loreen lay, tossed she hardly knew 
how into this haven, and Virginia crept nearer the 
Master than she had ever been, as her heart went 
out towards this wreck which had thus been flung 
torn and beaten at her feet. 

Meanwhile the Rectangle awaited the issue of 
the election with more than usual interest; and 
Mr. Gray and his wife wept over the poor, pitiful 
creatures who, after a struggle with surroundings 
that daily tempted them, too often wearied of the 
struggle and, like Loreen, threw up their arms 
and went whirling over the cataract into the boil- 
ing abyss of their previous condition. 

The after-meeting at the First Church was now 
eagerly established. Henry Maxwell went into the 
lecture-room on the Sunday succeeding the week of 
the primary, and was greeted with an enthusiasm 
that made him tremble at first for its reality. He 
noted again the absence of Jasper Chase, but all 
the others were present, and they seemed drawn 
very close together by a bond of common fellow- 
ship that demanded and enjoyed mutual con- 
fidences. It was the general feeling that the spirit 
of J esus was the spirit of very open, frank confes- 

9 


134 In His Steps. 

sion of experience. It seemed the most natural 
thing in the world, therefore, for Edward Norman 
to be telling all the rest of the company about the 
details of his newspaper. 

“The fact is, I have lost a great deal of money 
during the last three weeks. I cannot tell just how 
much. I am losing a great many subscribers every 
day.” 

“What do the subscribers give as their reason 
for dropping the paper ?” asked Mr. Maxwell. All 
the rest were listening eagerly. 

“There are a good many different reasons. Some 
say they want a paper that prints all the news; 
meaning, by that, the crime details, sensations like 
prize fights, scandals and horrors of various kinds. 
Others object to the discontinuance of the Sunday 
edition. I have lost hundreds of subscribers by 
that action, although I have made satisfactory ar- 
rangements with many of the old subscribers by 
giving them even more in the extra Saturday edi- 
tion than they formerly had in the Sunday issue. 
My greatest loss has come from a falling off in ad- 
vertisements, and from the attitude I have felt 
obliged to take on political questions. The last 
action has really cost me more than any other. The 
bulk of my subscribers are intensely partisan. I 
may as well tell you all frankly that if I continue 
to pursue the plan which I honestly believe Jesus 
would pursue in the matter of political issues and 
their treatment from a non-partisan and moral 
standpoint, the News will not be able to pay its 
operating expenses unless one factor in Raymond 
can be depended on.” 

He paused a moment and the room was very 
quiet. Virginia seemed specially interested. Her 


In His Steps. 135 

face glowed with interest. It was like the interest 
of a person who had been thinking hard of the 
same thing which Norman went on to mention. 

“That one factor is the Christian element in 
Raymond. Say the News has lost heavily from the 
dropping off of people who do not care for a Chris- 
tian daily, and from others who simply look upon a 
newspaper as a purveyor of all sorts of material to 
amuse or interest them, are there enough genuine 
Christian people in Raymond who will rally to the 
support of a paper such as Jesus would probably 
edit? or are the habits of the church people so 
firmly established in their demand for the regular 
type of journalism that they will not take a paper 
unless it is stripped largely of the Christian and 
moral purpose ? I may also say in this fellowship 
gathering that owing to very recent complications 
in my business affairs outside of my paper I have 
been obliged to lose a large part of my fortune. I 
had to apply the same rule of Jesus 7 probable con- 
duct to certain transactions with other men who did 
not apply it to their conduct, and the result has been 
the loss of a great deal of money. As I understand 
the promise we made, we were not to ask any ques- 
tion about ‘Will it pay ?’ but all our action was to be 
based on the one question, ‘What would Jesus do? 7 
Acting on that rule of conduct, I have been obliged 
to lose nearly all the money I have accumulated in 
my paper. It is not necessary for me to go into de- 
tails. There is no question with me now, after the 
three weeks 7 experience I have had, that a great 
many men would lose vast sums of money under 
the present system of business if this rule of Jesus 
was honestly applied. I mention my loss here be- 
cause I have the fullest faith in the final success of 


136 


In His Steps. 

a daily paper conducted on the lines I have recently 
laid down, and I had planned to put into it my en- 
tire fortune in order to win final success. As it is 
now, unless, as I said, the Christian people of Ray- 
mond, the church members and professing 
disciples, will support the paper with subscriptions 
and advertisements, I cannot continue its publica- 
tion on the present basis.” 

Virginia asked a question. She had followed Mr. 
Norman’s confession with the most intense eager- 
ness. 

“Do you mean that a Christian daily ought to be 
endowed with a large sum like a Christian college 
in order to make it pay ?” 

“That is exactly what I mean. I had laid out 
plans for putting into the News such a variety of 
material in such a strong and truly interesting way 
that it would more than make up for whatever was 
absent from its columns in the way of un-Christian 
matter. But my plans called for a very large out- 
lay of money. I am very confident that a Christian 
daily such as J esus would approve, containing only 
what He would print, can be made to succeed 
financially if it is planned on the right lines. But 
it will take a large sum of money to work out the 
plans.” 

“How much, do you think?” asked Virginia - 
quietly. 

Edward Norman looked at her keenly, and his 
face flushed a moment as an idea of her purpose 
crossed his mind. He had known her when she was 
a little girl in the Sunday-school, and he had been 
on intimate business relations with her father. 

“I should say half a million dollars in a town 
like Raymond could be well spent in the establish- 


137 


In His Steps. 

ment of a paper such as we have in mind,” he an- 
swered. His voice trembled a little. The keen look 
on his grizzled face flashed out with a stern bnt 
thoroughly Christian anticipation of great achieve- 
ments in the world of newspaper life, as it had 
opened up to him within the last few seconds. 

“Then,” said Virginia, speaking as if the 
thought was fully considered, “I am ready to put 
that amount of money into the paper on the one 
condition, of course, that it be carried on as it has 
been begun.” 

“Thank God!” exclaimed Mr. Maxwell softly. 
Norman was pale. The rest were looking at Vir- 
ginia. She had more to say. 

“Dear friends,” she went on, and there was a 
sadness in her voice that made an impression on the 
rest that deepened when they thought it over after- 
wards, “I do not want any of you to credit me with 
an act of great generosity. I have come to know 
lately that the money which I have called my own 
is not mine, but God’s. If I, as steward of His, see 
some wise way to invest His money, it is not an oc- 
casion for vainglory or thanks from any one simply 
because I have proved honest in my administration 
of the funds He has asked me to use for His glory. 
I have been thinking of this very plan for some 
time. The fact is, dear friends, that in our coming 
fight with the whisky power in Raymond — and it 
has only just begun — we shall need the News to 
champion the Christian side. You all know that 
all the other papers are for the saloon. As long as 
the saloon exists, the work of rescuing dying souls 
at the Rectangle is carried on at a terrible disadvan- 
tage. What can Mr. Gray do with his gospel meet- 
ings when half his converts are drinking people. 


138 


In His Steps. 

daily tempted and enticed by the saloon on every 
corner? It would be giving up to the enemy to 
allow the News to fail. I have great confidence in 
Mr. Norman’s ability. I have not seen his plans, 
but I have the same confidence that he has in mak- 
ing the paper succeed if it is carried forward on a 
large enough scale. I cannot believe that Christian 
intelligence in journalism wdll be inferior to un- 
Christian intelligence, even when it comes to mak- 
ing the paper pay financially. So that is my reason 
for putting this money — God’s, not mine — into 
this powerful agent for doing as Jesus would do. 
If we can keep such a paper going for one year, I 
shall be willing to see that amount of money used 
in that experiment. Do not thank me. Do not 
consider my doing it a wonderful thing. What 
have I done with God’s money all these years but 
gratify my own selfish personal desires ? What can 
I do with the rest of it but try to make some repara- 
tion for what I have stolen from God ? That is the 
way I look at it now. I believe it is what Jesus 
would do.” 

Over the lecture-room swept that unseen yet dis- 
tinctly felt wave of Divine Presence. No one spoke 
for a while. Mr. Maxwell standing there, where 
the faces lifted their intense gaze into his, felt what 
he had already felt — a strange setting back out of 
the nineteenth century into the first, when the dis- 
ciples had all things in common, and a spirit of fel- 
lowship must have flowed freely between them such 
as the First Church of Raymond had never before 
known. How much had his church membership 
known of this fellowship in daily interests before 
this little company had begun to do as they believed 
Jesus would do? It was with difficulty that he 


In His Steps. 139 

thought of his present age and surroundings. The 
same thought was present with all the rest, also. 
There was an unspoken comradeship such as they 
had never known. It was present with them while 
Virginia was speaking, and during the silence that 
followed. If it had been defined by any of them it 
would perhaps have taken some such shape as this : 
“If I shall, in the course of my obedience to my 
promise, meet with loss or trouble in the world, I 
. can depend upon the genuine, practical sympathy 
and fellowship of any other Christian in this room 
who has, with me, made the pledge to do all things 
by the rule, ‘What would Jesus do?’ ” 

All this, the distinct wave of spiritual power em- 
phasized. It had the effect that a physical miracle 
may have had on the early disciples in giving them 
a feeling of confidence in the Lord that helped 
them to face loss and martyrdom with courage and 
even joy. 

Before they went away this time there were sev- 
eral confidences like those of Edward Norman’s. 
Some of the young men told of loss of places owing 
to their honest obedience to their promise. Alex- 
ander Powers spoke briefly of the fact that the 
Commission had promised to take action on his evi- 
dence at the earliest* date possible. 

He was engaged at his old work of telegraphy, 
It was a significant fact that, since his action in re- 
signing his position, neither his wife nor daughter 
had appeared in public. No one but himself knew 
the bitterness of that family estrangement and mis- 
understanding of the higher motive. Yet many of 
the disciples present in the meeting carried similar 
burdens. These were things which they could not 
talk about. Henry Maxwell, from his knowledge 


140 In His Steps. 

of his people, could almost certainly know that obe- 
dience to their pledge had produced in the heart 
of families separation of sympathy and even the 
introduction of enmity and hatred. Truly, a man’s 
foes are they of his own household when the rule of 
Jesus is obeyed by some and disobeyed by others. 
Jesus is a great divider of life. One must walk 
parallel with Him or directly across His way. 


In His Steps. 


141 


CHAPTER XIV. 

But more than any other feeling at this meeting 
rose the tide of fellowship for one another. Max- 
well watched it, trembling for its climax which he 
knew was not yet reached. When it was, where 
would it lead them ? He did not know, but he was 
not unduly alarmed about it. Only he watched 
with growing wonder the results of that simple 
promise as it was being obeyed in these various 
lives. Those results were already being felt all 
over the city. Who could measure their influence 
at the end of a year ? 

One practical form of this fellowship showed 
itself in the assurances which Edward Norman re- 
ceived of support for his paper. There was a gen- 
eral flocking toward him when the meeting closed, 
and the response to his appeal for help from the 
Christian disciples in Raymond was fully under- 
stood by this little company. The value of such a 
paper in the homes and in behalf of good citizen- 
ship, especially at the present crisis in the city, 
could not be measured. It remained to be seen 
what could be done now that the paper was en- 
dowed so liberally. But it still was true, as Nor- 
man insisted, that money alone could not make the 
paper a power. It must receive the support and 
sympathy of the Christians in' Raymond before it 
could be counted as one of the great forces of the 
city. 

The week that followed this Sunday meeting was 
one of great excitement in Raymond. It was the 


142 In His Steps. 

week of the election. President Marsh, true to his 
promise, took up his cross and bore it manfully, but 
with shuddering, with groans and even tears, for 
his deepest ' conviction was touched, and he tore 
himself out of the scholarly seclusion of years with 
a pain and anguish that cost him more than any- 
thing he had ever done as a follower of Christ. 
With him were a few of the college professors who 
had made the pledge in the First Church. Their 
experience and suffering were the same as his ; for 
their isolation from all the duties of citizenship 
had been the same. The same was also true of 
Henry Maxwell, who plunged into the horror of 
this fight against whisky and its allies with a sick- 
ening dread of each day’s new encounter with it. 
For never before had he borne such a cross. He 
staggered under it, and in the brief intervals when 
he came in from the work and sought the quiet of 
his study for rest, the sweat broke out on his fore- 
head, and he felt the actual terror of one who 
marches into unseen, unknown horrors. Looking 
back on it afterwards he was amazed at his experi- 
ence. He was not a coward, but he felt the dread 
that any man of his habits feels when confronted 
suddenly with a duty which carries with it the do- 
ing of certain things so unfamiliar that the actual 
details connected with it betray his ignorance and 
fill him with the shame of humiliation. 

When Saturday, the election day, came, the ex- 
citement rose to its height. An attempt was made 
to close ail the saloons. It was only partly success- 
ful. There was a great deal of drinking going on 
all day. The Rectangle boiled and heaved and 
cursed and turned its worst side out to the gaze of 
the city. Gray had continued his meetings during 


In His Steps. 143 

the week, and the results had been even greater 
than he had dared to hope. When Saturday came, 
it seemed to him that the crisis in his work had 
been reached. The Holy Spirit and the Satan of 
rum seemed to rouse up to a desperate conflict. 
The more interest in the meetings, the more 
ferocity and vileness outside. The saloon men no 
longer concealed their feelings. Open threats of 
violence were made. Once during the week Gray 
and his little company of helpers were assailed with 
missiles of various kinds as they left the tent late 
at night. The police sent down a special force, and 
Virginia and Rachel were always under the protec- 
tion of either Rollin or Dr. West. Rachel’s power 
in song had not diminished. Rather, with each 
night, it seemed to add to the intensity and reality 
of the Spirit’s presence. 

Gray had at first hesitated about having a meet- 
ing that night. But he had a simple rule of action, 
and was always guided by it. The Spirit seemed to 
lead him to continue the meeting, and so Saturday 
night he went on as usual. 

The excitement all over the city had reached its 
climax when the polls closed at six o’clock. Never 
before had there ‘been such a contest in Raymond. 
The issue of license or no-license had never been an 
issue under such circumstances. Never before had 
such elements in the city been arrayed against each 
other. It was an unheard-of thing that the Presi- 
dent of Lincoln College, the pastor of the First 
Church, the Dean of the Cathedral, the profes- 
sional men living in the fine houses on the boule- 
vard, should come personally into the wards, and 
by their presence and their example represent the 
Christian conscience of the place. The ward poli- 


144 


In His Steps. 

ticians were astonished at the sight. However,, 
their astonishment did not prevent their activity. 
The fight grew hotter every hour, and when six 
o'clock came neither side could have guessed at the 
result with any certainty. Every one agreed that 
never before had there been such an election in 
Raymond, and both sides awaited the announce- 
ment of the result with the greatest interest. 

It was after ten o’clock when the meeting at the 
tent was closed. It had been a strange and, in 
some respects, a remarkable meeting. Maxwell 
had come down again at Gray’s request. He was 
completely worn out by the day’s work, but the ap- 
peal from Gray came to him in such a form that he 
did not feel able to resist it. President Marsh was 
also present. He had never been to the Rectangle, 
and his curiosity was aroused from what he had 
noticed of the influence of the evangelist in the 
worst part of the city. Hr. West and Rollin had 
come with Rachel and Virginia; and Loreen, who 
still stayed with Virginia, was present near the 
organ, in her right mind, sober, with a humility 
and dread of herself that kept her as close to Vir- 
ginia as a faithful dog. All through the service she 
sat with bowed head, weeping a part of the time, 
sobbing when Rachel sang the song, “I was a wan- 
dering sheep,” clinging with almost visible, tangi- 
ble yearning to the one hope she had found, listen- 
ing to prayer and appeal and confession all about 
her like one who was a part of a new creation, yet 
fearful of her right to share in it fully. 

The tent had been crowded. As on some other 
occasions, there was more or less disturbance on the 
outside. This had increased as the night advanced, 
and Gray thought it wise not to prolong the service. 


In His Steps. 145 

Once in a while a shont as from a large crowd 
swept into the tent. The returns from the election 
were beginning to come in, and the Rectangle had 
emptied every lodging house, den and hovel into 
the streets. 

In spite of these distractions Rachel’s singing 
kept the crowd in the tent from dissolving. There 
were a dozen or more conversions. Finally the peo- 
ple became restless and Gray closed the service, re- 
maining a little while with the converts. 

Rachel, Virginia, Loreen, Rollin and the Doctor, 
President Marsh, Mr. Maxwell and Dr. West went 
out together, intending to go down to the usual 
waiting place for their car. As they came out of 
the tent they were at once aware that the Rectangle 
was trembling on the verge of a drunken riot, and 
as they pushed through the gathering mobs in the 
narrow streets they began to realize that they them- 
selves were objects of great attention. 

“There he is — the bloke in the tall hat ! He’s the 
leader !” shouted a rough voice. President Marsh, 
with his erect, commanding figure, was conspicuous 
in the little company. 

“How has the election gone? It is too early to 
know the result yet, isn’t it ?” He asked the ques- 
tion aloud, and a man answered : 

“They say second and third wards have gone 
almost solid for no-license. If that is so, the 
whisky men have been beaten.” 

“Thank God ! I hope it is true !” exclaimed 
Maxwell. “Marsh, we are in danger here. Do you 
realize our situation ? We ought to get the ladies to 
a place of safety.” 

“That is true,” said Marsh gravely. At that 
moment a shower of stones and other missiles fell 


146 In His Steps. 

over them. The narrow street and sidewalk in 
front of them was completely choked with the 
worst elements of the Rectangle. 

“This looks serious,” said Maxwell. With Marsh 
and Rollin and Hr. West he started to go forward 
through a small opening, Virginia, Rachel and 
Loreen following close and sheltered by the men, 
who now realized something of their danger. The 
Rectangle was drunk and enraged. It saw in Marsh 
and Maxwell two of the leaders in the election con- 
test which had perhaps robbed them of their be- 
loved saloon. 

“Down with the aristocrats !” shouted a shrill 
voice, more like a woman’s than a man’s. A shower 
of mud and stones followed. Rachel remembered 
afterwards that Rollin jumped directly in front of 
her and received on his head and chest a number 
of blows that would probably have struck her if he 
had not shielded her from them. 

And just then, before the police reached them, 
Loreen darted forward in front of Virginia and 
pushed her aside, looking up and screaming. It 
was so sudden that no one had time to catch the 
face of the one who did it. But out of the upper 
window of a room, over the very saloon where Lo- 
reen had come out a week before, some one had 
thrown a heavy bottle. It struck Loreen on the 
head and she fell to the ground. Virginia turned 
and instantly kneeled down by her. The police of- 
ficers by that time had reached the little company. 

President Marsh raised his arm and shouted 
over the howl that was beginning to rise from the 
wild beast in the mob. 

“Stop ! You’ve killed a woman !” The an- 
nouncement partly sobered the crowd. 


147 


In His Steps. 

“Is it true?” Maxwell asked it, as Dr. West 
kneeled on the other side of Loreen, supporting her. 

“She’s dying !” said Dr. West briefly. 

Loreen opened her eyes and smiled at Virginia, 
who wiped the blood from her face and then bent 
over and kissed her. Loreen smiled again, and the 
next minute her soul was in Paradise. 

And yet this is only one woman out of thou- 
sands killed by this drink devil. Crowd back, now, 
je sinful men and women in this filthy street ! Let 
this august dead form be borne through your stupe- 
fied, sobered ranks ! She was one of your own chil- 
dren. The Rectangle had stamped the image of the 
beast on her. Thank Him who died for sinners 
that the other image of a new soul now shines out 
of her pale clay. Crowd back ! Give them room ! 
Let her pass reverently, followed and surrounded 
by the weeping, awestruck company of Christians. 
Ye killed her, ye drunken murderers ! And yet — 
and yet — 0 Christian America, who killed this 
woman ? Stand back ! Silence, there ! A woman 
has been killed. Who? Loreen. Child of the 
streets. Poor, drunken, vile sinner. 0 Lord God, 
how long, how long? Yes. The saloon killed her; 
that is, the Christians of America, who license the 
saloon. And the Judgment Day only shall declare* 
who was the murderer of Loreen. 


148 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER XV. 

“He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness.” 

The body of Loreen lay in state at the Page man- 
sion on the avenue. It was Sunday morning and 
the clear sweet spring air, just beginning to 
breathe over the city the perfume of early blos- 
soms in the woods and fields, swept over the casket 
from one of the open windows at the end of the 
grand hall. The church bells were ringing and 
people on the avenue going by to service turned 
curious, inquiring looks up at the great house and 
then went on, talking of the recent events which 
had so strangely entered into and made history in 
the city. 

At the First Church, Mr. Maxwell, bearing on 
his face marks of the scene he had been through, 
confronted an immense congregation, and spoke to 
it with a passion and a power that came so natur- 
ally out of the profound experiences of the day be- 
fore that his people felt for him something of the 
old feeling of pride they once had in his dramatic 
' delivery. Only this was with a different attitude. 
And all through his impassioned appeal this morn- 
ing, there was a note of sadness and rebuke and 
stern condemnation that made many of the mem- 
bers pale with self-accusation or with inward 
anger. 

For Raymond had awakened that morning to the 
fact that the city had gone for license after all. 
The rumor at the Rectangle that the second and 
third wards had gone no-license proved to be false. 


In His Steps. 149 

It was true that the victory was won by a very 
meager majority. But the result was the same as 
if it had been overwhelming. Raymond had voted 
to continue for another year the saloon. The Chris- 
tians of Raymond stood condemned by the result. 
More than a hundred professing Christian disciples 
had failed to go to the polls, and many more than 
that number had voted with the whisky men. If 
all the church members of Raymond had voted 
against the saloon, it would to-day be outlawed 
instead of crowned king of the municipality. For 
that had been the fact in Raymond for years. The 
saloon ruled. Ho one denied that. What would 
J esus do ? And this woman who had been brutally 
struck down by the very hand that had assisted so 
eagerly to work her earthly ruin — what of her? 
Was it anything more than the logical sequence of 
the whole horrible system of license, that for an- 
other year the very saloon that received her so 
often and compassed her degradation, from whose 
very spot the weapon had been hurled that struck 
her dead, would, by the law which the Christian 
people of Raymond voted to support, perhaps open 
its doors to-morrow and damn a hundred Loreens 
before the year had drawn to its bloody close ? 

All this, with a voice that rang and trembled and 
broke in sobs of anguish for the result, did Henry 
Maxwell pour out upon his people that Sunday 
morning. And men and women wept as he spoke. 
President Marsh sat there, his usual erect, hand- 
some, firm, bright, self-confident bearing all gone ; 
his head bowed upon his breast, the great tears roll- 
ing down his checks, unmindful of the fact that 
never before had he shown outward emotion in a 
public service. Edward Norman near by sat with 

10 


150 In His Steps. 

liis clear-cut, keen face erect, but his lip trembled j 
and he clutched the end of the pew with a feeling j 
of emotion that struck deep into his knowledge of jj 
the truth as Maxwell spoke it. No man had given I 
or suffered more to influence public opinion that j 
week than Norman. The thought that the Chris- j 
tian conscience had been aroused too late or too j 
feebly, lay with a weight of accusation upon the 1 
heart of the editor. What if he had begun to do j 
as Jesus would have done, long ago? Who could j 
tell what might have been accomplished by this j 
time ! And up in the choir, Rachel Winslow, with j 
her face bowed on the railing of the oak screen, 
gave way to a feeling which she had not allowed j 
yet to master her, but it so unfitted her for herpart 
that when Mr. Maxwell finished and she tried to ] 
sing the closing solo after the prayer, her voice I 
broke, and for the first time in her life she was 
obliged to sit down, sobbing, and unable to go on. 

Over the church, in the silence that followed this < 
strange scene, sobs and the noise of weeping arose. 
When had the First Church yielded to such a 
baptism of tears ? What had become of its regular, 
precise, conventional order of service, undisturbed 
by any vulgar emotion and unmoved by any foolish i 
excitement? But the people had lately had their 
deepest convictions touched. They had been living 
so long on their surface feelings that they had 
almost forgotten the deeper wells of life. Now that 
they had broken the surface, the people were con- 
vinced of the meaning of their discipleship. 

Mr. Maxwell did not ask, this morning, for vol- 
unteers to join those who had already pledged to 
do as Jesus would. But when the congregation 
had finally gone, and he had entered the lecture- 


In His Steps. 151 

room, it needed bnt a glance to show him that the 
original company of followers had been largely in- 
creased. The meeting was tender ; it glowed with 
the Spirit’s presence ; it was alive with strong and 
lasting resolve to begin a war on the whisky power 
in Raymond that w^ould break its reign forever. 
Since the first Sunday when the first company of 
volunteers had pledged themselves to do as Jesus 
would do, the different meetings had been charac- 
terized by distinct inpulses or impressions. To- 
day, the entire force of the gathering seemed to 
be directed to this one large purpose. It was a 
meeting full of broken prayers of contrition, of con- 
fession, of strong yearning for a new and better 
city life. And all through it ran one general cry 
for deliverance from the saloon and its awful curse. 

But if the First Church was deeply stirred by 
the events of the last week, the Rectangle also felt 
moved strangely in its own way. The death of 
Loreen was not in itself so remarkable a fact. It 
was her recent acquaintance with the people from 
the city that lifted her into special prominence and 
surrounded her death with more than ordinary im- 
portance. Every one in the Rectangle knew that 
Loreen was at this moment lying in the Page man- 
sion up on the avenue. Exaggerated reports of the 
magnificence of the casket had already furnished 
material for eager gossip. The Rectangle was ex- 
cited to know the details of the funeral. Would it 
be public? What did Miss Page intend to do? 
The Rectangle had never before mingled even in 
this distant personal manner with the aristocracy 
on the boulevard. The opportunities for doing so 
were not frequent. Gray and his wife were be- 
sieged by inquirers who wanted to know what 


152 In His Steps. 

Loreen’s friends and acquaintances were expected 
to do in paying their last respects to her. For her 
acquaintance was large, and many of the recent 
converts were among her friends. 

So that is how it happened that Monday after- 
noon, at the tent, the funeral service of Loreen was 
held before an immense audience that choked the 
tent and overflowed beyond all previous bounds. 
Gray had gone up to Virginia’s and, after talking 
it over with her and Maxwell, the arrangement 
had been made. 

“I am and always have been opposed to large 
public funerals,” said Gray, whose complete whole- 
some simplicity of character was one of its great 
sources of strength ; “but the cry of the poor crea- 
tures who knew Loreen is so earnest that I do not 
know how to refuse this desire to see her and pay 
her poor body some last little honor. What do you 
think, Mr. Maxwell? I will be guided by your 
judgment in the matter. I am sure that whatever 
you and Miss Page think best, will be right.” 

“I feel as you do,” replied Mr. Maxwell. “Under 
most circumstances I have a great distaste for 
what seems like display at such times. But this 
seems different. The people at the Rectangle will 
not come here to service. I think the most Chris- 
tian thing will be to let them have the service at 
the tent. Do you think so, Miss Virginia?” 

“Yes,” said Virginia sadly. “Poor soul ! I do not 
know but that some time I shall know she gave her 
life for mine. We certainly cannot and will not 
use the occasion for vulgar display. Let her friends 
be allowed the gratification of their wishes. I see 
no harm in it.” 

So the arrangements were made, with some dif- 


In His Steps. 153 

ficulty, for the service at the tent; and Virginia 
with her uncle and Rollin, accompanied by Max- 
well, Iiachel and President Marsh, and the quartet 
from the First Church, went down and witnessed 
one of the strange things of their lives. 

It happened that that afternoon a somewhat 
noted newspaper correspondent was passing 
through Raymond on his way to an editorial con- 
vention in a neighboring city. He heard of the 
contemplated service at the tent and went down. 
His description of it was written in a graphic style 
that caught the attention of very many readers the 
next day. A fragment of his account belongs to 
this part of the history of Raymond : 

“There was a very unique and unusual funeral 
service held here this afternoon at the tent of an 
evangelist. Rev. J ohn Gray, down in the slum dis- 
trict known as the Rectangle. The occasion was 
caused by the killing of a woman during an election 
riot last Saturday night. It seems she had been 
recently converted during the evangelist’s meet- 
ings, and was killed while returning from one of 
the meetings in company with other converts and 
some of her friends. She was a common street 
drunkard, and yet the services at the tent were as 
impressive as any I ever witnessed in a metropoli- 
tan church over the most distinguished citizen. 

“In the first place, a most exquisite anthem was 
sung by a trained choir. It struck me, of course 
— being a stranger in the place — with considerable 
astonishment to hear voices like those one naturally 
expects to hear only in great churches or concerts, 
at such a meeting as this. But the most remark- 
able part of the music was a solo sung by a strik- 
ingly beautiful young woman, a Miss Winslow 


154 


In His Steps. 

who, if I remember right, is the young singer who 
was sought for by Crandall the manager of Na- 
tional Opera, and who for some reason refused to 
accept his offer to go on the stage. She had a most 
wonderful manner in singing, and everybody was 
weeping before she had sung a dozen words. That, 
of course, is not so strange an effect to be produced 
at a funeral service, but the voice itself was one of 
thousands. I understand Miss Winslow sings in 
the First Church of Raymond and could probably 
command almost any salary as a public singer. 
She will probably be heard from soon. Such a 
voice could win its way anywhere. 

“The service aside from the singing was peculiar. 
The evangelist, a man of apparently very simple, 
unassuming style, spoke a few words, and he was 
followed by a fine-looking man, the Rev. Henry 
Maxwell, pastor of the First Church of Raymond. 
Mr. Maxwell spoke of the fact that the dead woman 
had been fully prepared to go, but he spoke in a 
peculiarly sensitive manner of the effect of the 
liquor business on the lives of men and women like 
this one. Raymond, of course, being a railroad 
town and the centre of the great packing interests 
for this region, is full of saloons. I caught from 
the minister’s remarks that he had only recently 
changed his views in regard to license. He cer- 
tainly made a very striking address, and yet it was 
in no sense inappropriate for a funeral. 

“Then followed what was perhaps the queer part 
of this strange service. The women in the tent, at 
least a lgrge part of them up near the coffin, began 
to sing in a soft, tearful way, T was a wandering 
sheep.’ Then while the singing was going on, one 
row of women stood up and walked slowly past the 


In His Steps. 155 

casket, and as they went by, each one placed a 
flower of some kind npon it. Then they sat down 
and another row filed past, leaving their flowers. 
All the time the singing continued softly like rain 
on a tent cover when the wind is gentle. It was one 
of the simplest and at the same time one of the 
most impressive sights I ever witnessed. The sides 
of the tent were up, and hundreds of people who 
could not get in, stood outside, all as still as death 
itself, with wonderful sadness and solemnity for 
such rough looking people. There must have been 
a hundred of these women, and I was told many of 
them had been converted at the meetings just re- 
cently. I cannot describe the effect of that singing. 
Hot a man sang a note. All women’s voices, and so 
soft, and yet so distinct, that the effect was start- 
ling. 

“The service closed with another solo by Miss 
Winslow, who sang, ‘There were ninety and nine.’ 
And then the evangelist asked them all to bow their 
heads while he prayed. I was obliged in order to 
catch my train to leave during the prayer, and the 
last view I caught of the service as the train went 
by the shops was a sight of the great crowd pouring 
out of the tent and forming in open ranks while the 
coffin was borne out by six of the women. It is a 
long time since I have seen such a picture in this 
unpoetic Republic.” 

If Loreen’s funeral impressed a passing stranger 
like this, it is not difficult to imagine the profound 
feelings of those who had been so intimately con- 
nected with her life and death. Nothing had ever 
entered the Rectangle that had moved it so deeply 
as Loreen’s body in that coffin. And the Holy 
Spirit seemed to bless with special power the use of 


156 


In His Steps. 

this senseless clay. For that night He swept more 
than a score of lost souls, mostly women, into the 
fold of the Good Shepherd. 

It should be said that Mr. Maxwell’s statements 
concerning the opening of the saloon from whose 
windows Loreen had been killed, proved nearly ex- 
actly true. It was formally closed Monday and 
Tuesday while the authorities made arrests of the 
proprietors charged with the murder. But noth- 
ing could be proved against any one, and before 
Saturday of that week the saloon was running as 
regularly as ever. No one on the earth was ever 
punished by earthly courts for the murder of 
Loreen. 


In His Steps. 


157 


CHAPTER XYI. 

Ho one in all Raymond, including the Rectangle, 
felt Loreen’s death more keenly than Virginia, 
r It came like a distinct personal loss to her. That 
short week while the girl had been in her home 
had opened Virginia’s heart to a new life. She 
was talking it over with Rachel the day after the 
funeral. They were sitting in the hall of the Page 
mansion. 

“I am going to do something with my money to 
help these women to a better life.” Virginia 
looked over to the end of the hall where, the day 
before, Loreen’s body had lain. “I have decided 
on a good plan, as it seems to me. I have talked 
it over with Rollin. He will devote a large part of 
his money also to the same plan.” 

“How much money have you, Virginia, to give 
in this way?” asked Rachel. Once, she would 
never have asked such a personal question. How, 
it seemed as natural to talk frankly about money 
as about anything else that belonged to God. 

“I have available for use at least four hundred 
and fifty thousand dollars. Rollin has as much 
more. It is one of his bitter regrets now that his 
extravagant habits of life before his conversion 
practically threw away half that father left him. 
We are both eager to make all the reparation in 
our power. ‘What would J esus do with this 
money?’ We want to answer that question hon- 
estly and wisely. The money I shall put into the 


158 


In His Steps. 

News is, I am confident, in a line with His prob- 
able action. It is as necessary that we have a 
Christian daily paper in Raymond, especially now 
that we have the saloon influence to meet, as it is 
to have a church or a college. So I am satisfied 
that the five hundred thousand dollars that Mr. 
Norman will know how to use so well will be a 
powerful factor in Raymond to do as Jesus 
would. 

“About my other plan, Rachel, I want you to 
work with me. Rollin and I are going to buy up a 
large part of the property in the Rectangle. The 
field where the tent now is, has been in litigation 
for years. We mean to secure the entire tract as 
soon as the courts have settled the title. For some 
time I have been making a special study of the 
various forms of college settlements and residence 
methods of Christian work and Institutional 
church work in the heart of great city slums. I 
do not know that I have yet been able to tell just 
what is the wisest and most effective kind of work 
that can be done in Raymond. But I do know this 
much. My money — I mean God’s, which he wants 
me to use — can build wholesome lodging-houses, 
refuges for poor women, asylums for shop girls, 
safety for many and many a lost girl like Loreen. 
And I do not want to be simply a dispenser of this 
money. God help me! I do want to put myself 
into the problem. But you know, Rachel, I have a 
feeling all the time that all that limitless money 
and limitless personal sacrifice can possibly do, wiil 
not really lessen very much the awful condition at 
the Rectangle as long as the saloon is legally es- 
tablished there. I think that is true of any Chris- 
tian work now being carried on in any great city. 


159 


In His Steps. 

The saloon furnishes material to be saved faster 
than the settlement or residence or rescue mission 
work can save it.” 

Virginia suddenly rose and paced the hall. 
Rachel answered sadly, and yet with a note of hope 
in her voice: 

“It is true. But, Virginia, what a wonderful 
amount of good can be done with this money! 
And the saloon cannot always remain here. The 
time must come when the Christian forces in the 
city will triumph.” 

Virginia paused near Rachel, and her pale, ear- 
nest face lighted up. 

“I believe that too. The number of those who 
have promised to do as Jesus would is increasing. 
If we once have, say, five hundred such disciples 
in Raymond, the saloon is doomed. But now, 
dear, I want you to look at your part in this plan 
for capturing and saving the Rectangle. Your 
voice is a power. I have had many ideas lately. 
Here is one of them. You could organize among 
the girls a Musical Institute; give them the benefit 
of your training. There are some splendid voices 
in the rough there. Did any one ever hear such 
singing as that yesterday by those women? Rachel, 
what a beautiful opportunity! You shall have the 
I best of material in the way of organs and orchestras 
I that money can provide, and what cannot be done 
: with music to win souls there into higher and 
\ purer and better living?” 

Before Virginia had ceased speaking RacheFs 
face was perfectly transformed with the thought 
of her life work. It flowed into her heart and 
mind like a flood, and the torrent of her feeling 
overflowed in tears that could not be restrained. 


160 In His Steps. 

It was what she had dreamed of doing herself. It 
represented to her something that she felt was in 
keeping with a right use of her talent. 

“Yes,” she said, as she rose and put her arm 
about Virginia, while both girls in the excitement 
of their enthusiasm paced the hall. “Yes, I will 
gladly put my life into that kind of service. I do 
believe that Jesus would have me use my life in 
this way. Virginia, what miracles can we not ac- 
complish in humanity if we have such a lever as 
consecrated money to move things with!” 

“Add to it consecrated personal enthusiasm like 
yours, and it certainly can accomplish great 
things,” said Virginia smiling. And before Rachel 
could reply, Rollin came in. 

He hesitated a moment, and then was passing 
out of the hall into ' the library when Virginia 
called him back and asked some questions about his 
work. 

Rollin came hack and sat down, and together the 
three discussed their future plans. Rollin was ap- 
parently entirely free from embarrassment in Rach- 
el’s presence while Virginia was with them, only 
his manner with her was almost prQcise, if not 
cold. The past seemed to have been entirely ab- 
sorbed in his wonderful conversion. He had not 
forgotten it, hut he seemed to he completely caught 
up for this present time in the purpose of his new 
life. After a while Rollin was called out, and 
Rachel and Virginia began to talk of other things. 

“By the way, what has become of Jasper Chase?” 
Virginia asked the question innocently, but Rachel 
flushed and Virginia added with a smile, “I sup- 
pose he is writing another book. Is he going to 
put you into this one, Rachel? You know I al- 


1G1 


In His Steps. 

ways suspected Jasper Chase of doing that very 
thing in his first story.” 

“Virginia,” Eachel spoke with the frankness 
that had always existed between the two friends, 
“Jasper Chase told me the other night that he — 
in fact — he proposed to me — or he would, if — ■” 

Eachel stopped and sat with her hands clasped 
on her lap, and there were tears in her eyes. 

“Virginia, I thought ,a little while ago I loved 
him, as he said he loved me. But when he spoke, 
my heart felt repelled, and I said what I ought to 
say. I told him no. I have not seen him since. 
That was the night of the first conversions at the 
Eectangle.” 

“I am glad for you,” said Virginia quietly. 

“Why?” asked Eachel a little startled. 

“Because, I have never really liked J asper Chase. 
He is too cold and— I do not like to judge him, 
hut I have always distrusted his sincerity in taking 
the pledge at the church with the rest.” 

Eachel looked at Virginia thoughtfully. 

“I have never given my heart to him I am sure. \ 
He touched my emotions, and I admired his skill : 
as a writer. I have thought at times that I cared 
a good deal for him. I think perhaps if he had 
* spoken to me at any other time than the one he 
chose, I could easily have persuaded myself that 
I loved him. But not now.” 

Again Eachel paused suddenly, and when she 
looked up at Virginia again there were tears on her 
face. Virginia came to her and put her arm about 
her tenderly. 

When Eachel had left the house, Virginia sat 
in the hall thinking over the confidence her friend 
had just shown her. There was something still 


1G2 


In His Steps. 

to be told, Virginia felt snre from EacheFs man- 
ner, but she did not feel hurt that Eachel had kept 
back something. She was simply conscious of 
more on EacheFs mind than she had revealed. 

Very soon Eollin came back, and he and Vir- 
ginia, arm in arm as they had lately been in the 
habit of doing, walked up and down the long hall. 
It was easy for their talk to settle finally upon 
Eachel because of the place she was to occupy in 
the plans which were being made for the purchase 
of property at the Eectangle. 

“Did you ever know of a girl of such really 
gifted powers in vocal music who was willing to 
give her life to the people as Eachel is going to do ? 
She is going to give music lessons in the city, have 
private pupils to make her living, and then give 
the people in the Eectangle the benefit of her cul- 
ture and her voice.” 

“It is certainly a very good example of self- 
sacrifice,” replied Eollin a little stiffly. 

Virginia looked at him a little sharply. “But 
don’t you think it is a very unusual example ? Can 
you imagine — ” here Virginia named half a dozen 
•famous opera singers — “doing anything of this 
sort?” 

“Ho, I cannot,” Eollin answered briefly. “Nei- 
ther can I imagine Miss — ” he spoke the name of 
the girl with the red parasol who had begged Vir- 
ginia to take the girls to the Eectangle — “doing 
what you are doing, Virginia.” 

“Any more than I can imagine Mr. — ” Virginia 
spoke the name of a young society leader — “going 
about to the clubs doing your work, Eollin.” The 
two walked on in silence for the length of the hall. 

“Coming back to Eachel,” began Virginia, “Eol- 


In His Steps. 163 

lin, why do you treat her with such a distinct, pre- 
cise manner? I think, Rollin — pardon me if I 
hurt you — that she is annoyed by it. You need 
to he on easy terms. I don’t think Rachel likes 
this change.” 

Rollin suddenly stopped. He seemed deeply 
agitated. He took his arm from Virginia’s and 
walked alone to the end of the hall. Then he 
returned, with his hands behind him, and stopped 
near his sister and said, “Virginia, have you not 
learned my secret?” 

Virginia looked bewildered, then over her face, 
the unusual color crept, showing that she under- 
stood. 

“I have never loved any one but Rachel Wins- 
low.” Rollin spoke calmly enough now. “That 
day she was here when you talked about her refusal 
to join the concert company, I asked her to be my 
wife; out there on the avenue. She refused me, 
as I knew she would. And she gave as her reason 
the fact that I had no purpose in life, which was 
true enough. Now that I have a purpose, now 
that I am a new man, don’t you see, Virginia, how 
impossible it is for me to say anything? I owe 
my very conversion to Rachel’s singing. And yet 
that night while she sang I can honestly say that, 
for the time being, I never thought of her voice ex- 
cept as God’s message. I believe that all my per- 
sonal love for her was for the time merged into a 
personal love to my God and my Saviour.” Rollin 
was silent, then he went on with more emotion. 
“I still love her, Virginia. But I do not think 
she could ever love me.” He stopped and looked 
his sister in the face with a sad smile. 

“I don’t know about that,” said Virginia to 


164 


In His Steps. 

herself. She was noting Rolling handsome face, 
his marks of dissipation nearly all gone now, the 
firm lips showing manhood and courage, the clear 
eyes looking into hers frankly, the form strong 
and graceful. Rollin was a. man now. Why should 
not Rachel come to love him in time? Surely the 
two were well fitted for each other, especially now 
that their purpose in life was moved by the same 
Christian force. 

She said something of all this to Rollin, but he 
did not find much comfort. When they closed the 
interview, Virginia carried away the impression 
that Rollin meant to go his way with his chosen 
work, trying to reach the fashionable men at the 
clubs, and while not avoiding Rachel, seeking no 
occasions for meeting her. He was distrustful of 
his power to control his feeling. And Virginia 
could see that he dreaded even the thought of a 
second refusal in case he did let Rachel know that 
his love was still the same. 


In His Steps. 


165 


CHAPTER XVII. 

The next day she went down to the News of- 
fice to see Edward Norman and arrange the details 
of her part in the establishment of the paper on 
its new foundation. Mr. Maxwell was present at 
this conference, and the three agreed that what- 
ever Jesus would do in detail as editor of a daily 
paper, He would be guided by the same general 
principles that directed His conduct as the Saviour 
of the world. 

“I have tried to put down here in concrete form 
some of the things that it has seemed to me Jesus 
would do,” said Edward Norman. He read from 
a paper lying on his desk, and Maxwell was re- 
minded again of his own effort to put into written 
form his own conception of Jesus’ probable action, 
and also of Milton Wright’s same attempt in his 
business. 

“I have headed this, ‘What would Jesus do as 
Edward Norman, editor of a daily newspaper in 
Raymond ?’ 

“1. He would never allow a sentence or a pic- 
ture in his paper that could be called bad or coarse 
or impure in any way. 

“2. He would probably conduct the political 
part of the paper from the standpoint of non-par- 
tisan patriotism, always looking upon all political 
questions in the light of their relation to the King- 
dom of God, and advocating measures from the 
standpoint of their relation to the welfare of the 

11 


1G6 


In His Steps. 

people, always on the basis of ‘What is right?’ 
never on the basis of ‘What is for the best interests 
of this or that party ?’ In other words, He would 
treat all political questions as he would treat every 
other subject, from the standpoint of the advance- 
ment of the Kingdom of God on earth.” 

Edward Norman looked up from the reading a 
moment. “You understand that is my opinion of 
Jesus’ probable action on political matters in a 
daily paper. I am not passing judgment on other 
newspaper men who may have a different concep- 
tion of Jesus’ probable action from mine. I am 
simply trying to answer honestly ‘What would 
Jesus do as Edward Norman?’ And the answer 
I find is what I have put down.” 

“3. The end and aim of a daily paper conducted 
by Jesus would be to do the will of God. That is, 
His main purpose in carrying on a newspaper 
would not be to make money, or gain political in- 
fluence ; but His first and ruling purpose would be 
so to conduct his paper that it would be evident to 
all his subscribers that He was trying to seek first 
the Kingdom of God by means of His paper. This 
purpose would be as distinct and unquestioned as 
the purpose of a minister or a missionary or any 
unselfish martyr in Christian work anywhere. 

“4. All questionable advertisements would be 
impossible. 

“5. The relations of Jesus to the employees on 
the paper would be of the most loving character.” 

“So far as I have gone,” said Norman again 
looking up, “I am of opinion that Jesus would 
employ practically some form of co-operation that 
would represent the idea of a mutual interest in a 
business where all were to move together for the 


In His Steps. 16? 

same great end. I am working ont such a plan, 
and I am confident it will be successful. At any 
rate, once introduce the element of personal love 
into a business like this, take out the selfish prin- 
ciple of doing it for personal profits to a man or 
company, and I do not see any way except the most 
loving personal interest between editors, reporters,, 
pressmen, and all who contribute anything to the 
life of the paper. And that interest would be ex- 
pressed not only in the personal love and sympathy 
but in a sharing with the profits of the business.” 

“ 6 . As editor of a daily paper to-day, Jesus 
would give large space to the work of the Christian 
world. He would devote a page possibly to the 
facts of Reform, of sociological problems, of insti- 
tutional church work and similar movements. 

“ 7 . He would do all in His power in His paper to 
fight the saloon as an enemy of the human race 
and an unnecessary part of our civilization. He 
would do this regardless of public sentiment in 
the matter and, of course, always regardless of its 
effect upon His subscription list.” 

Again Edward Norman looked up. “I state my 
honest conviction on this point. Of course, I do 
not pass judgment on the Christian men who are 
editing other kinds of papers to-day. But as I in- 
terpret Jesus, I believe He would use the influence 
of His paper to remove the saloon entirely from the 
political and social life of the nation.” 

“8. Jesus would not issue a Sunday edition. 

“9. He would print the news of the world that 
people ought to know. Among the things they 
do not need to know, and which would not be 
published, would be accounts of brutal prize-fights, 
long accounts of crimes, scandals in private fam- 


168 


In His Steps. 

ilies, or any other human events which in any way 
would conflict with the first point mentioned in 
this outline. 

"10. If Jesus had the amount of money to use 
on a paper which we have, He would probably se- 
cure the best and strongest Christian men and 
women to co-operate with Him in the matter of 
'Contributions. That will be my purpose, as I shall 
be able to show you in a few days. 

5 "11. Whatever the details of the paper might de- 

mand as the paper developed along its definite 
plan, the main principle that guided it would al- 
ways be the establishment of the Kingdom of God 
in the world. This large general principle would 
necessarily shape all the detail.” 

Edward Norman finished reading the plan. He 
was very thoughtful. 

"I have merely sketched a faint outline. I have 
a hundred ideas for making the paper powerful 
that I have not thought out fully as yet. , This is 
simply suggestive. I have talked it over with 
other newspaper men. Some of them say I will 
have a weak, namby-pamby Sunday-school sheet. 
If I get out something as good as a Sunday-school 
it will be pretty good. Why do men, when they 
want to characterize something as particularly 
feeble, always use a Sunday-school as a compari- 
son, when they ought to know that the Sunday- 
SGhool is one of the strongest, most powerful in- 
fluences in our civilization in this country to-day ? 
But the paper will not necessarily be weak because 
it is good. Good things are more powerful than 
had. The question with me is largely one of sup- 
port from the Christian people of Raymond. 
There are over twenty thousand church members 


169 - 


In His Steps. 

here in this city. If half of them will stand by 
the News its life is assured. What do you think,, 
Maxwell, of the probability of such support ?” 

“I don’t know enough about it to give an intelli- 
gent answer. I believe in the paper with all my 
heart. If it lives a year, as Miss Virginia said,, 
there is no telling what it can do. The great thing- 
will be to issue such a paper, as near as we can 
judge, as Jesus probably would, and put into it all 
the elements of Christian brains, strength, intelli- 
gence and sense ; and command respect for freedom 
from bigotry, fanaticism, narrowness and anything 
else that is contrary to the spirit of Jesus. Such 
a paper will call for the best that human thought 
and action is capable of giving. The greatest, 
minds in the world would have their powers taxed 
to the utmost to issue a Christian daily.” 

“Yes,” Edward Norman spoke humbly. “I shall, 
make a great many mistakes, no doubt. I need a 
great deal of wisdom. But I want to do as Jesus- 
would. ‘What would He do ?’ I have asked it, and. 
shall continue to do so, and abide by the results/" 

“I think we are beginning to understand,” said 
Virginia, “the meaning of that command, ‘Grow 
in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and 
Saviour Jesus Christ/ I am sure I do not know 
all that He would do in detail until I know Him 
better.” 

“That is very true,” said Henry Maxwell. “I 
am beginning to understand that I cannot interpret 
the probable action of Jesus until I know better 
what His spirit is. The greatest question in all of 
human life is summed up when we ask, ‘What 
would Jesus do ?’ if, as we ask it, we also try to an- 
swer it from a growth in knowledge of J esus him- 


170 In His Steps. 

self. We must know Jesus before we can imitate 
Him.” 

When the arrangement had been made between 
Virginia and Edward Norman, he found himself 
in possession of the sum of five hundred thousand 
dollars to use for the establishment of a Christian 
daily paper. When Virginia and Maxwell had 
gone, Norman closed his door and, alone with the 
Divine Presence, asked like a child for help from 
his all-powerful Father. All through his prayer 
-as he kneeled before his desk ran the promise, “If 
any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God who 
giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not, and 
it shall be given him.” Surely his prayer would 
be answered, and the kingdom advanced through 
this instrument of God’s power, this mighty press, 
which had become so largely degraded to the base 
uses of man’s avarice and ambition. 

Two months went by. They were full of action 
and of results in the city of Raymond and espe- 
cially in the First Church. In spite of the ap- 
proaching heat of the summer season, the after- 
meeting of the disciples who had made the pledge 
to do as Jesus would do, continued with enthusi- 
asm and power. Gray had finished his work at 
the Rectangle, and an outward observer going 
through the place could not have seen any differ- 
ence in the old conditions, although there was an 
actual change in hundreds of lives. But the 
saloons, dens, hovels, gambling houses, still ran, 
overflowing their vileness into the lives of fresh vic- 
tims to take the place of those rescued by the evan- 
gelist. And the devil recruited his ranks very fast. 

Henry Maxwell did not go abroad. Instead of 
that, he took the money he had been saving for the 


171 


In His Steps. 

trip and qnietly arranged for a summer vacation 
for a whole family living down in the Rectangle, 
who had never gone outside of the foul district of 
the tenements. The pastor of the First Church will 
never forget the week he spent with this family 
making the arrangements. He went down into the 
Rectangle one hot day when something of the ter- 
rible heat in the horrible tenements was beginning 
to be felt, and helped the family to the station, and 
then went with them to a beautiful spot on the 
coast where, in the home of a Christian woman, 
the bewildered city tenants breathed for the first 
time in years the cool salt air, and felt blow about 
them the pine-scented fragrance of a new lease of 
life. 

There was a sickly babe with the mother, and 
three other children, one a cripple. The father, 
who had been out of work until he had been, as he 
afterwards confessed to Maxwell, several times on 
the edge of suicide, sat with the baby in his arms 
during the journey, and when Maxwell started 
back to Raymond, after seeing the family settled, 
the man held his hand at parting, and choked with 
his utterance, and finally broke down, to Maxwell’s 
great confusion. The mother, a wearied, worn-out 
woman who had lost three children the year before 
from a fever scourge in the Rectangle, sat by the 
car window all the way and drank in the delights 
of sea and sky and field. It all seemed a miracle 
to her. And Maxwell, coming back into Raymond 
at the end of that week, feeling the scorching, ‘ 
sickening heat all the more because of his little 
taste of the ocean breezes, thanked God for the joy 
he had witnessed, and entered upon his disciple- 
ship with a humble heart, knowing for almost the 


172 In His Steps. 

first time in his life this special kind of sacrifice. 
For never before had he denied himself his regular 
summer trip away from the heat of Raymond, 
whether he felt in any great need of rest or not. 

“It is a fact,” he said in reply to several inquiries 
on the part of his church, “I do not feel in need 
of a vacation this year. I am very well and prefer 
to stay here.” It was with a feeling of relief that 
he succeeded in concealing from every one but his 
wife what he had done with this other family. He 
felt the need of doing anything of that sort with- 
out display or approval from others. 

So the summer came on, and Maxwell grew into 
a large knowledge of his Lord. The First Church 
was still swayed by the power of the Spirit. Max- 
well marveled at the continuance of His stay. He 
knew very well that from the beginning nothing 
but the Spirit’s presence had kept the church from 
being torn asunder by the remarkable testing it had 
received of its discipleship. Even now there were 
many of the members among those who had not 
taken the pledge, who regarded the whole move- 
ment as Mr. Winslow did, in the nature of a fanat- 
ical interpretation of Christian duty, and looked 
for the return of the old normal condition. Mean- 
while the whole body of disciples was under the in- 
fluence of the Spirit, and the pastor went his way 
that summer, doing his parish work in great joy, 
keeping up his meetings with the railroad men as 
he had promised Alexander Powers, and daily 
growing into a better knowledge of the Master. 

Early one afternoon in August, after a day of 
refreshing coolness following a long perod of heat, 
Jasper Chase walked to his window in the apart- 
ment house on the avenue and looked out. 


173 


In His Steps. 

On his desk lay a pile of manuscript. Since 
that evening when he had spoken to Rachel Win- 
slow he had not met her. His singularly sensitive 
nature — sensitive to the point of extreme irritabil- 
ity when he was thwarted — served to thrust him 
into an isolation that was intensified by his habits 
as an author. 

All through the heat of summer he had been 
writing. His book was nearly done now. He had 
thrown himself into its construction with a fever- 
ish strength that threatened at any moment to 
desert him and leave him helpless. He had not 
forgotten his pledge made with the other church 
members at the First Church. It had forced itself 
upon his notice all through his writing, and ever 
since Rachel had said no to him, he had asked 
a thousand times, “Would Jesus do this? Would 
He write this story ?” It was a social novel, written 
in a style that had proved popular. It had no pur- 
pose except to amuse. Its moral teaching was not 
bad, but neither was it Christian in any positive 
way. Jasper Chase knew that such a story would 
probably sell. He was conscious of powers in this 
way that the social world petted and admired. 
“What would Jesus do ?” He felt that Jesus would 
never write such a book. The question obtruded 
on him at the most inopportune times. He became 
irascible over it. The standard of Jesus for an 
author was too ideal. Of course, Jesus would use 
His powers to produce something useful or help- 
ful, or with a purpose. What was he, Jasper 
Chase, writing this novel for? Why, what nearly 
every writer wrote for — money, money, and fame 
as a writer. There was no secret with him that he 
was writing this new story with that object. . He 


174 


In His Steps. 

was not poor, and so had no great temptation to 
write for money. Bnt he was urged on by his de- 
sire for fame as much as anything. He must 
write this kind of matter. But what would Jesus 
do? The question plagued him even more than 
Rachel's refusal. Was he going to break his prom- 
ise ? “Did the promise mean much after all ?" he 
asked. 

As he stood at the window, Rollin Page came 
out of the club house just opposite. Jasper noted 
his handsome face and noble figure as he started 
down the street. He went back to his desk and 
turned over some papers there. Then he came 
back to the window. Rollin was walking down 
past the block and Rachel Winslow was walking 
beside him. Rollin must have overtaken her as 
she was coming from Virginia's that afternoon. 

Jasper watched the two figures until they dis- 
appeared in the crowd on the walk. Then he 
turned to his desk and began to write. When he 
had finished the last page of the last chapter of his 
book it was nearly dark. “What would Jesus do ?" 
He had finally answered the question by denying 
his Lord. It grew darker in his room. He had 
deliberately chosen his course, urged on by his dis- 
appointment and loss. 

“But Jesus said unto him, no man having put 
his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for 
the Kingdom of God." 


In His Steps. 


175 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

“What is that to thee? Follow thou me.” 

When Rollin started down the street the after- 
noon that Jasper stood looking out of his window 
he was not thinking of Rachel Winslow and did 
not expect to see her anywhere. He had come sud- 
denly upon her as he turned into the avenue and his 
heart had leaped up at the sight of her. He 
walked along by her now, rejoicing after all in a 
little moment of this earthly love he could not drive 
out of his life. 

“I have just been over to see Virginia,” said Ra- 
chel. “She tells me the arrangements are nearly 
completed for the transfer of the Rectangle prop- 
erty.” 

“Yes. It has been a tedious case in the courts. 
Did Virginia show you all the plans and specifica- 
tions for building ?” 

“We looked over a good many. It is astonishing 
to me where Virginia has managed to get all her 
ideas about this work.” 

“Virginia knows more now about Arnold Toyn- 
bee and East End London and Institutional 
Church work in America than a good many pro- 
fessional slum workers. She has been spending 
nearly all summer in getting information.” Rol- 
lin was beginning to feel more at ease as they talked 
over this coming work of humanity. It was safe, 
common ground. 

“What have you been doing all summer ? I have 


176 In His Steps. 

not seen much of you/’ Rachel suddenly asked, and 
then her face warmed with its quick flush of tropi- 
cal color as if she might have implied too much in- 
terest in Rollin or too much regret at not seeing 
him oftener. 

“I have been busy,” replied Rollin briefly. 

“Tell me something about it,” persisted Rachel. 
“You say so little. Have I a right to ask ?” 

She put the question very frankly, turning to- 
ward Rollin in real earnest. 

“Yes, certainly,” he replied, with a graceful 
smile. “I am not so certain that I can tell you 
much. I have been trying to find some way to 
reach the men I once knew and win them into more 
useful lives.” 

He stopped suddenly as if he were almost afraid 
to go on. Rachel did not venture to suggest any- 
thing. 

“I have been a member of the same company to 
which you and Virginia belong,” continued Rollin, 
beginning again. “I have made the pledge to do 
as I believe Jesus would do, and it is in trying to 
answer this question that I have been doing my 
work.” 

“That is what I do not understand. Virginia 
+ old me about the other. It seems wonderful to 
cnink that you are trying to keep that pledge with 
us. But what can you do with the club men ?” 

“You have asked me a direct question and I shall 
have to answer it now,” replied Rollin, smiling 
again. “You see, I asked myself after that night 
at the tent, you remember” (he spoke hurriedly 
and his voice trembled a little), “what purpose I 
could now have in my life to redeem it, to satisfy 
my thought of Christian discipleship ? And the 


In His Steps. 177 

more I thought of it, the more I was driven to a 
place where I knew I must take up the cross. Did 
you ever think that of all the neglected beings in 
our social system none are quite so completely left 
alone as the fast young men who fill the clubs and 
waste their time and money as I used to? The 
churches look after the poor, miserable creatures 
like those in the Rectangle ; they make some effort 
to reach the working man, they have a large con- 
stituency among the average salary-earning peo- 
ple, they send money and missionaries to the for- 
eign heathen, but the fashionable, dissipated young 
men around town, the club men, are left out of all 
plans for reaching and Christianizing. And yet 
no class of people need it more. I said to myself : 
T know these men, their good and their bad quali- 
ties. I have been one of them. I am not fitted to 
reach the Rectangle people. I do not know how. 
But I think I could possibly reach some of the 
young men and boys who have money and time to 
spend/ So that is what I have been trying to do. 
When I asked as you did, ‘What would Jesus do V 
that was my answer. It has been also my cross.” 

Rollin’s voice was so low on this last sentence 
that Rachel had difficulty in hearing him above the 
noise around them. But she knew what he had 
said. She wanted to ask what his methods were. 
But she did not know how to ask him. .Her inter- 
est in his plan was larger than mere curiosity. 
Rollin Page was so different now from the fash- 
ionable young man who had asked her to be his wife 
that she could not help thinking of him and talking 
with him as if he were an entirely new acquaint- 
ance. 

They had turned off the avenue and were going 


178 


In His Steps. 

up the street to Rachel’s home. It was the same 
street where Rollin had asked Rachel why she could 
not love him. They were both stricken with a sud- 
den shyness as they went on. Rachel had not for- 
gotten that day and Rollin could not. She finally 
broke a long silence by asking what she had not 
found words for before. 

“In your work with the club men, with your old 
acquaintances, what sort of reception do they give 
you? How do you approach them? What do 
they say ?” 

Rollin was relieved when Rachel spoke. He an- 
swered quickly : 

“Oh, it depends on the man. A good many of 
them think I am a crank. I have kept my mem- 
bership up and am in good standing in that way. 
I try to be wise and not provoke any unnecessary 
criticism. But you would be surprised to know 
how many of the men have responded to my appeal. 
I could hardly make you believe that only a few 
nights ago a dozen men became honestly and ear- 
nestly engaged in a conversation over religious 
matters. I have had the great joy of seeing some 
of the men give up bad habits and begin a new life. 
‘What would Jesus do ?’ I keep asking it. The an- 
swer comes slowly, for I am feeling my way slowly. 
One thing I have found out. The men are not 
fighting shy of me. I think that is a good sign. 
Another thing : I have actually interested some of 
them in the Rectangle work, and when it is started 
up they will give something to help make it more 
powerful. And in addition to all the rest, I have 
found a way to save several of the young fellows 
from going to the bad in gambling.” 

Rollin spoke with enthusiasm. His face was 


In His Steps. 179 

transformed by his interest in the subject which 
had now become a part of his real life. Rachel 
again noted the strong, manly tone of his speech. 
With it all she knew there was a deep, underlying 
seriousness which felt the burden of the cross even 
while carrying it with joy. The next time she 
spoke it was with a swift feeling of justice due to 
Rollin and his new life. 

“Do you remember I reproached you once for 
not having any purpose worth living for?” she 
asked, while her beautiful face seemed to Rollin 
more beautiful than ever when he had won suffi- 
cient self-control to look up. “I want to say, I 
feel the need of saying, in justice to you now, that 
I honor you for your courage and your obedience to 
the promise you have made as you interpret the 
promise. The life you are living is a noble one.” 

Rollin trembled. His agitation was greater 
than he could control. Rachel could not help see- 
ing it. They walked along in silence. At last Rol- 
lin said: 

“I thank you. It has been worth more to me 
than I can tell you to hear you say that.” He 
looked into her face for one moment. She read his 
love for her in that look, but he did not speak. 

When they separated Rachel went into the house 
and, sitting down in her room, she put her face in 
her hands and said to herself : “I am beginning to 
know what it means to be loved by a noble man. I 
shall love Rollin Page after all. What am I saying ! 
Rachel Winslow, have you forgotten — ” 

She rose and walked back and forth. She was 
deeply moved. Nevertheless, it was evident to her- 
self that her emotion was not that of regret or sor- 
row. Somehow a glad new joy had come to her. 


180 


In His Steps. 

She had entered another circle of experience, and 
later in the day she rejoiced with a very strong and 
sincere gladness that her Christian discipleship 
found room in this crisis in her feeling. It was in- 
deed a part of it, for if she was beginning to love 
Rollin Page it was the Christian man she had 
begun to love ; the other never would have moved 
her to this great change. 

And Rollin, as he went back, treasured a hope 
that had been a stranger to him since Rachel had 
said no that day. In that hope he went on with 
his work as the days sped on, and at no time was 
he more successful in reaching and saving his old 
acquaintances than in the time that followed that 
chance meeting with Rachel Winslow. 

The summer had gone and Raymond was once 
more facing the rigor of her winter season. Vir- 
ginia had been able to accomplish a part of her 
plan for “capturing the Rectangle,” as she called 
it. But the building of houses in the field, the 
transforming of its bleak, bare aspect into an at- 
tractive park, all of which was included in her 
plan, was a work too large to be completed that fall 
after she had secured the property. But a million 
dollars in the hands of a person who truly wants 
to do with it as Jesus would, ought to accomplish 
winders for humanity in a short time, and Henry 
Maxwell, going over to the scene of the new work 
one day after a noon hour wdth the shop men, was 
amazed to see how much had been done outwardly. 

Yet he walked home thoughtfully, and on his 
way he could not avoid the question of the con- 
tinual problem thrust upon his notice by the saloon. 
How much had been done for the Rectangle after 
all? Even counting in Virginia’s and Rachel’s 


181 


In His Steps. 

work and Mr. Gray’s, where had it actually counted 
in any visible quantity ? Of course, he said to him- 
self, the redemptive work begun and carried on by 
the Holy Spirit in His wonderful displays of power 
in the First Church and in the tent meetings had 
had its effect upon the life of Raymond. But as 
he walked past saloon after saloon and noted the 
crowds going in and coming out of them, as he 
saw the wretched dens, as many as ever apparently, 
as he caught the brutality and squalor and open 
misery and degradation on countless faces of men 
and women and children, he sickened at the sight.' 
He found himself asking how much cleansing 
could a million dollars poured into this cesspool 
accomplish ? Was not the living source of nearly 
all the human misery they sought to relieve un- 
touched as long as the saloons did their deadly but 
legitimate work ? What could even such unselfish 
Christian diseipleship as Virginia’s and Rachel’s 
do to lessen the stream of vice and crime so long as 
the great spring of vice and crime flowed as deep 
and strong as ever? Was it not a practical waste 
of beautiful lives for these young women to throw 
themselves into this earthly hell, when for every 
soul rescued by their sacrifice the saloon made two 
more that needed rescue ? 

He could not escape the question. It was the 
same that Virginia had put to Rachel in her state- 
ment that, in her opinion, nothing really perma- 
nent would ever be done until the saloon was taken 
out of the Rectangle. Henry Maxwell went back 
to his parish work that afternoon with added con- 
victions on the license business. 

But if the saloon was a factor in the problem of 
the life of Raymond, no less was the First Church 
12 


182 


In His Steps. 

and its little company of disciples who had 
pledged to do as Jesns would do. Henry Maxwell, 
standing at the very centre of the movement,, was 
not in a position to judge of its power as some one 
from the outside might have done. Bnt Raymond 
itself felt the touch in very many ways, not know- 
ing all the reasons for the change. * 

The winter was gone and the year was ended, the 
year which Henry Maxwell had fixed as the time 
during which the pledge should be kept to do as 
Jesus would do. Sunday, the anniversary of that 
one a year ago, was in many ways the most remark- 
able day that the First Church ever knew. It was 
more important than the disciples in the First 
Church realized. The year had made history so 
fast and so serious that the people were not yet 
able to grasp its significance. And the day itself 
which marked the completion of a whole year of 
such discipleship was characterized by such revela- 
tions and confessions that the immediate actors in 
the events themselves could not understand the 
value of what had been done, or the relation of 
their trial to the rest of the churches and cities of 
the country. 

It happened that the week before that anniver- 
sary Sunday the Rev. Calvin Bruce, D.D., of the 
Nazareth Avenue Church, Chicago, was in Ray- 
mond, where he had come on a visit to some old 
friends, and incidentally to see his old seminary 
classmate, Henry Maxwell. He was present at the 
First Church and was an exceedingly attentive and 
interested spectator. His account of the events in 
Raymond, and especially of that Sunday, may 
throw more light on the entire situation than any 
-description or record from other sources. 


In His Steps. 


18S 


CHAPTER XIX. 

[Letter from Rev. Calvin Bruce, D.D. of the 
Hazareth Avenue Church, Chicago, to Rev. Philip 
A. Caxton, D.D., Hew York City.] 

“My Dear Caxton: 

“It is late Sunday night, but I am so intensely 
awake and so overflowing with what I have seen 
and heard that I feel driven to write you now some 
account of the situation in Raymond as I have been 
studying it, and as it has apparently come to a cli- 
max to-day. So this is my only excuse for writing 
so extended a letter at this time. 

“You remember Henry Maxwell in the Semi- 
nary. I think you said the last time I visited yon 
in Hew York that you had not seen him since we 
graduated. He was a refined, scholarly fellow, you 
remember, and when he was called to the First 
Church of Raymond within a year after leaving 
the Seminary, I said to my wife, ‘Raymond has 
made a good choice. Maxwell will satisfy them as. 
a sermonizer/ He has been here eleven years, and 
I understand that up to a year ago he had gone 
on in the regular course of the ministry, giving* 
good satisfaction and drawing good congregations. 
His church was counted the largest and wealthiest 
church in Raymond. All the best people attended 
it, and most of them belonged. The quartet choir 
was famous for its music, especially for its soprano. 
Miss Winslow, of whom I shall have more to say; 
and, on the whole, as I understand the facts, Max- 
well was in a comfortable berth, with a very good 


184 In His Steps. 

salary, pleasant surroundings, a not very exacting 
parish of refined, rich, respectable people — such a 
church and parish as nearly all the young men 
of the Seminary in our time looked forward to as 
very desirable. 

“But a year ago to-day Maxwell came into his 
church on Sunday morning, and at the close of the 
service made the astounding proposition that the 
members of his church volunteer for a year not 
to do anything without first asking the question, 
‘What would Jesus do?’ and, after answering it, 
to do what in their honest judgment He would do, 
regardless of what the result might be to them. 

“The effect of this proposition, as it has been 
met and obeyed by a number of members of the 
church, has been so remarkable that, as you know, 
the attention of the whole country has been di- 
rected to the movement. I call it a ‘movement’ 
because from the action taken to-day, it seems prob- 
able that what has been tried here will reach out 
into the other churches and cause a revolution in 
methods, but more 'especially in a new definition of 
Christian discipleship. 

“In the first place. Maxwell tells me he was as- 
tonished at the response to his proposition. Some 
of the most prominent members in the church 
made the promise to do as Jesus would. Among 
them were Edward Norman, editor of the Daily 
News , which has made such a sensation in the 
newspaper world; Milton Wright, one of the lead- 
ing merchants in Raymond; Alexander Powers, 
whose action in the matter of the railroads against 
the interstate commerce laws made such a stir 
about a year ago; Miss Page, one of Raymond’s 
leading society heiresses, who has lately dedicated 


In His Steps. 185 

her entire fortune, as I understand, to the Chris- 
tian daily paper and the work of reform in the 
slum district known as the Rectangle; and Miss 
Winslow, whose reputation as a singer is now na- 
tional, but who in obedience to what she has de- 
cided to be Jesus’ probable action, has devoted 
her talent to volunteer work among the girls and 
women who make up a large part of the city’s worst 
and most abandoned population. 

“In addition to these well-known people has 
been a gradually increasing number of Christians 
from the First Church and lately from other 
churches of Raymond. A large proportion of these 
volunteers who pledged themselves to do as Jesus 
would do comes from the Endeavor societies. The 
young people say that they have already embodied 
in their society pledge the same principle in the 
words, T promise Him that I will strive to do what- 
ever He would have me do.’ This is not exactly 
what is included in Maxwell’s proposition, which 
is that the disciple shall try to do what Jesus 
would probably do in the disciple’s place. But 
the result of an honest obedience to either pledge, 
he claims, will be practically the same, and he is 
not surprised that the largest numbers have joined 
the new discipleship from the Endeavor Society. 

“I am sure the first question you will ask is, 
‘What has been the result of this attempt? What 
has it accomplished, or how has it changed in any 
way the regular life of the church or the com- 
munity ?’ 

“You already know something, from reports of 
Raymond that have gone over the country, what 
the events have been. But one needs to come here 
and learn something of the charges in individual 


186 


In His Steps. 

lives, and especially the change in the church life, 
to realize all that is meant by this following of 
Jesus’ steps so literally. To tell all that would 
he to write a long story or series of stories. I am 
not in a position to do that, but I can give you 
some idea perhaps of what has been done as told me 
by friends here and by Maxwell himself. 

“The result of the pledge upon the First Church 
has been two-fold. It has brought about a spirit 
of Christian fellowship which Maxwell tells me 
never before existed, and which now impresses 
him as being very nearly what the Christian fellow- 
ship of the apostolic churches must have been; 
and it has divided the church into two distinct 
groups of members. Those who have not taken 
the pledge regard the others as foolishly literal in 
their attempt to imitate the example of Jesus. 
Some of them have drawn out of the church and 
no longer attend, or they have removed their mem- 
bership entirely to other churches. Some are an 
element of internal strife, and I heard rumors of an 
.attempt on their part to force Maxwell’s resigna- 
tion. I do not know that this element is very 
strong in the church. It has been held in check 
by a wonderful continuance of spiritual power, 
which dates from the first Sunday the pledge was 
taken a year ago, and also by the fact that so many 
of the most prominent members have been iden- 
tified with the movement. 

“The effect on Maxwell is very marked. I heard 
him preach in our State Association four years 
ago. He impressed me at the time as having con- 
siderable power in dramatic delivery, of which he 
himself was somewhat conscious. His sermon was 
well written and abounded in what the Seminary 


In His Steps. 187 

students used to call ‘fine passages/ The effect of 
it was what an average congregation would call 
‘pleasing/ This morning I heard Maxwell preach 
again, for the first time since then. I shall speak 
of that farther on. He is not the same man. He 
gives me the impression of one who has passed 
through a crisis of revolution. He tells me this 
revolution is simply a new definition of Christian 
discipleship. He certainly has changed many of 
his old habits and many of his old views. His atti- 
tude on the saloon question is radically opposite to 
the one he entertained a year ago. And in his en- 
tire thought of the ministry, his pulpit and parish 
work, I find he has made a complete change. So 
far as I can understand, the idea that is moving 
him on now is the idea that the Christianity of 
our times must represent a more literal imitation of 
Jesus, and especially in the element of suffering. 
He quoted to me in the course of our conversation 
several times the verses in Peter: ‘For even here- 
unto were ye called, because Christ also suffered for 
you, leaving you an example, that ye would follow 
His steps’ ; and he seems fdled with the conviction 
that what our churches need to-day more than any- 
thing else is this factor of joyful suffering for 
Jesus in some form. I do not know as I agree 
with him, altogether; but, my dear Caxton, it is 
certainly astonishing to note the results of this 
idea as they have impressed themselves upon this’ 
city and this church. 

“You ask how about the results on the individ- 
uals who have made this pledge and honestly tried 
to be true to it. Those results are, as I have said, 
a part of individual history and cannot be told in 
detail. Some of them I can give you so that you 


188 


In His Steps. 

may see that this form of discipleship is not merely 
sentiment or fine posing for effect. 

“For instance, take the case of Mr. Powers, who 
was superintendent . of the machine shops of the 
L. and T. E. E. here. When he acted upon the 
evidence which incriminated the road he lost his 
position and, more than that, I learn from my 
iriends here, his family and social relations have 
become so changed that he and his family no longer 
appear in public. They have dropped out of the 
social circle where once they were so prominent. 
By the way, Caxton, I understand in this connec- 
tion that the Commission, for one reason or an- 
other, postponed action on this case, and it is now 
rumored that the L. and T. E. E. will pass into a 
receiver’s hands very soon. The president of the 
road who, according to the evidence submitted by 
Powers, was the principal offender, has resigned, 
and complications which have risen since point to 
the receivership. Meanwhile, the superintendent 
has gone hack to his old work as a telegraph opera- 
tor. I met him at the church yesterday. He im- 
pressed me as a man who had, like Maxwell, gone 
through a crisis in character. I could not help 
thinking of him as being good material for the 
church of the first century when the disciples had 
all things in common. 

“Or take the case of Mr. Norman, editor of the 
Daily News. He risked his entire fortune in 
obedience to what he believed was Jesus’ action, 
and revolutionized his entire conduct of the paper 
at the risk of a failure. I send you a copy of yes- 
terday’s paper. I want you to read it carefully. 
To my mind it is one of the most interesting and 
remarkable papers ever printed in the United 


In His Steps. 189 

States. It is open to criticism, but what could any 
mere man attempt in this line that would be free 
from criticism. Take it all in all, it is so far above 
the ordinary conception of a daily paper that I am 
amazed at the result. He tells me that the paper 
is beginning to be read more and more by the 
Christian people of the city. He was very con- 
fident of its final success. Read his editorial on 
the money questions, also the one on the coming 
election in Raymond when the question of license 
will again be an issue. Both articles are of the 
best from his point of view. He says he never 
begins an editorial or, in fact, any part of his news- 
paper work, without first asking, ‘What would 
Jesus do?’ The result is certainly apparent. 

“Then there is Milton Wright, the merchant. 
He has, I am told, so revolutionized his business 
that no man is more beloved to-day in Raymond. 
His own clerks and employees have an affection for 
him that is very touching. During the winter, 
while he was lying dangerously ill at his home, 
scores of clerks volunteered to watch and help in 
any way possible, and his return to his store was 
greeted with marked demonstrations. All this has 
been brought about by the element of personal love 
introduced into the business. This love is not 
mere words, but the business itself is carried on 
under a system of co-operation that is not a pat- 
ronizing recognition of inferiors, but a real sharing 
in the whole business. Other men on the street 
look upon Milton Wright as odd. It is a fact, 
however, that while he has lost heavily in some 
directions, he has increased his business, and is 
to-day respected and honored as one of the best and 
most successful merchants in Raymond. 


190 


In His Steps. 

“And there is Miss Winslow. She has chosen 
to give her great talent to the poor of the city. 
Her plans include a Musical Institute where chor- 
uses and classes in vocal music shall be a feature. 
She is enthusiastic over her life work. In con- 
nection with her friend Miss Page she has planned 
a course in music which, if carried out, will cer- 
tainly do much to lift up the lives of the people 
down there. I am not too old, dear Caxton, to he 
interested in the romantic side of much that has 
also been tragic here in Eaymond, and I must tell 
you that it is well understood here that Miss Wins- 
low expects to be married this spring to a brother 
of Miss Page who was once a society leader and 
club man, and who was converted in a tent where 
his wife-that-is-to-be took an active part in the 
service. I don’t know all the details of this little 
romance, but I can imagine there is a story wrap- 
ped up in it, and it would make interesting reading 
if we only knew it all. 

“These are only a few illustrations of results in 
individual lives owing to obedience to the pledge. 
I meant to have spoken of President Marsh of Lin- 
coln College. He is a graduate of my alma mater 
and I knew him slightly when I was in the senior 
year. He has taken an active part in the recent 
municipal campaign, and his influence in the city is 
regarded as a very large factor in the coming elec- 
tion. He impressed me, as did all the other dis- 
ciples in this movement, as having fought out some 
hard questions, and as having taken up some real 
burdens that have caused and still do cause that 
suffering of which Henry Maxwell speaks, a suffer- 
ing that does not eliminate, but does appear to in- 
tensify, a positive and practical joy. 


In His Steps. 


191 


CHAPTER XX. 


“But I am prolonging this letter, possibly to 
your weariness. I am unable to avoid the feeling 
of fascination which my entire stay here has in- 
creased. I want to tell you something of the meet- 
ing in the First Church to-day. 

“As I said, I heard Maxwell preach. At his ear- 
nest request I had preached for him the Sunday 
before, and this was the first time I had heard him 
since the Association meeting four years ago. His 
sermon this morning was as different from his ser- 
mon then as if it had been thought out and 
preached by some one living on another planet. I 
was profoundly touched. I believe I actually shed 
tears once. Others in the congregation were 
moved like myself. His text was : ‘What is that to 
thee? Follow thou Me/ It was a most unusually 
impressive appeal to the Christians of Raymond to 
obey Jesus* teachings and follow in His steps re- 
gardless of what others might do. I cannot give 
you even the plan of the sermon. It would take 
too long. At the close of the service there was the 
usual after meeting that has become a regular fea- 
ture of the First Church. Into this meeting have 
come all those who made the pledge to do as J esus 
would do, and the time is spent in mutual, fellow- 
ship, confession, question as to what Jesus would 
do in special cases, and prayer that the one great 
guide of every disciple’s conduct may be the Holy 
Spirit. 

“Maxwell asked me to come into this meeting. 





192 


In His Steps. 

Nothing in all my ministerial life, Caxton, has so 
moved me as that meeting. I never felt the Spir- 
it’s presence so powerfully. It was a meeting of 
reminiscences and of the most loving fellowship. 
I was irresistibly driven in thought back to the 
first years of Christianity. There was something 
about all this that was apostolic in its simplicity 
and Christ imitation. 

“I asked questions. One that seemed to arouse 
more interest than any other was in regard to the 
extent of the Christian disciple’s sacrifice of per- 
sonal property. Maxwell tells me that so far no 
one has interpreted the spirit of Jesus in such a 
way as to abandon his earthly possessions, give 
away of his wealth, or in any literal way imitate 
the Christians of the order, for example, of St. 
Francis of Assisi. It was the unanimous consent, 
however, that if any disciple should feel that J esus 
in his own particular case would do that, there 
could be only one answer to the question. Maxwell 
admitted that he was still to a certain degree un- 
certain as to Jesus’ probable action when it came 
to the details of household living, the possession of 
wealth, the holding of certain luxuries. It is, 
however, very evident that many of these disciples 
have repeatedly carried their obedience to Jesus to 
the extreme limit, regardless of financial loss. 
There is no lack of courage or consistency at this 
point. 

“It is also true that some of the business men 
who took the pledge have lost great sums of money 
in this imitation of Jesus, and many have, like 
Alexander Powers, lost valuable positions owing to 
the impossibility of doing what they had been ac- 
customed to do and at the same time what they 


i93; 


In His Steps. 

felt Jesus would do in the same place. In connec- 
tion with these cases it is pleasant to record the 
fact that many who have suffered in this way have 
been at once helped financially by those who still 
have means. In this respect I think it is true that 
these disciples v have all things in common. Cer- 
tainly such scenes as I witnessed at the First 
Church at that after service this morning I never 
< saw in my church or in any other. I never dreamed 
that such Christian fellowship could exist in this 
age of the world. I was almost incredulous as to 
the witness of my own senses. I still seem to be 
asking myself if this is the close of the nineteenth 
century in America. 

“But now, dear friend, I come to the real cause 
of this letter, the real heart of the whole question 
as the First Church of Raymond has forced it upon 
me. Before the meeting closed to-day steps were 
taken to secure the co-operation of all other Chris- 
tian disciples in this country. I think Maxwell 
took this step after long deliberation. He said as 
much to me one day when we were discussing the 
effect of this movement upon the church in gen- 
eral. 

“ ‘Why/ he said, ‘suppose that the church mem- 
I bership generally in this country made this pledge 
and lived up to it ! What a revolution it would 
cause in Christendom ! But why not ? Is it any 
more than the disciple ought to do? Has he fol- 
lowed Jesus, unless he is willing to do this? Is 
the test of discipleship any less to-day than it was 
in J esus’ time V 

“I do not know all that preceded or followed his 
thought of what ought to be done outside of Ray- 
mond, but the idea crystallized to-day in a plan to 


194 


In His Steps. 

secure the fellowship of all the Christians in Amer- 
ica. The churches, through their pastors, will be 
asked to form disciple gatherings like the one in 
the First Church. Volunteers will be called for 
in the great body of church members in the United 
States, who will promise to do as Jesus would do. 
Maxwell spoke particularly of the result of such 
general action on the saloon question. He is ter- 
ribly in earnest over this. He told me that there 
was no question in his mind that the saloon would 
be beaten in Raymond at the election now near at 
hand. If so, they could go on with some courage 
to do the redemptive work begun by the evangelist 
and now taken up by the disciples in his own 
church. If the saloon triumphs again there will be 
a terrible and, as he thinks, unnecessary waste of 
Christian sacrifice. But, however we differ on 
that point, he convinced his church that the time 
had come for a fellowship with other Christians. 
Surely, if the First Church could work such 
changes in society and its surroundings, the church 
in general if combining such a fellowship, not of 
creed but of conduct, ought to stir the entire na- 
tion to a higher life and a new conception of Chris- 
tian following. 

“This is a grand idea, Caxton, but right here is 
where I find myself hesitating. I do not deny that 
the Christian disciple ought to follow Christ’s steps 
as closely as these here in Raymond have tried to 
do. But I cannot avoid asking what the result 
would be if I ask my church in Chicago to do it. I 
am writing this after feeling the solemn, profound 
touch of the Spirit’s presence, and I confess to you, 
old friend, that I cannot call up in my church a 
dozen prominent business or professional men who 


195 


In His Steps. 

would make this trial at the risk of all they hold 
dear. Can you do any better in your church? 
What are we to say ? That the churches would not 
respond to the call : ‘Come and suffer ?’ Is our 
standard of Christian discipleship a wrong one? 
Or are we possibly deceiving ourselves, and would 
we be agreeably disappointed if we once asked our 
people to take such a pledge faithfully ? The act- 
ual results of the pledge as obeyed here in Raymond 
are enough to make any pastor tremble, and at the 
same time long with yearning that they might oc- 
cur in his own parish. Certainly never have I seen 
a church so signally blessed by the Spirit as this 
one. But — am I myself ready to take this pledge ? 
I ask the question honestly, and I dread to face an 
honest answer. I know well enough that I should 
have to change very much in my life if I undertook 
to follow His steps so closely. I have called myself 
a Christian for many years. For the past ten 
years I have enjoyed a life that has had compara- 
tively little suffering in it. I am, honestly I say it, 
living at a long distance from municipal problems 
and the life of the poor, the degraded and the 
abandoned. What would the obedience to this 
pledge demand of me ? I hesitate to answer. My 
church is wealthy, fu]l of well-to-do, satisfied peo- 
ple. The standard of their discipleship is, I am 
aware, not of a nature to respond to the call of suf- 
fering or personal loss. I say: T am aware/ I 
may be mistaken. I may have erred in not stirring 
their deeper life. Caxton, my friend, I have 
spoken my inmost thought to you. Shall I go back 
to my people next Sunday and stand up before 
them in my large city church and say : ‘Let us fol- 
low Jesus closer; let us walk in His steps where it 


196 


In His Steps. 

will cost ns something more than it is costing ns 
now ; let ns pledge not to do anything without first 
asking: What would Jesus do ? 9 If I should go 
before them with that message, it would be a 
strange and startling one to them. But why? 
Are we not ready to follow Him all the way ? What 
is it to be a follower of Jesus ? What does it mean 
to imitate Him? What does it mean to walk in 
His steps ?” 

The Rev. Calvin Bruce, D.D., of the Nazareth 
Avenue Church, Chicago, let his pen fall on the 
table. He had coijie to the parting of the ways, 
and his question, he felt sure, was the question of 
many and many a man in the ministry and in the 
church. He went to his window and opened it. 
He was oppressed with the weight of his convictions 
and he felt almost suffocated with the air in the 
room. He wanted to see the stars and feel the 
breath of the world. 

The night was very still. The clock in the First 
Church was just striking midnight. As it finished 
a clear, strong voice down in the direction of the 
Rectangle came floating up to him as if borne on 
radiant pinions. 

It was a voice of one of Gray’s old converts, a 
night watchman at the packing houses, who some- 
times solaced his lonesome hours by a verse or two 
of some familiar hymn : 

“Must Jesus bear the cross alone 
And all the world go free? 

No, there’s a cross for every one, 

And there’s a cross for me.” 

The Rev. Calvin Bruce turned away from the 


In His Steps. 19? 

window and, after a little hesitation, he kneeled. 
“What would J esus do ?” That was the burden of 
his prayer. Never had he yielded himself so com- 
pletely to the Spirit’s searching revealing of Jesus. 
He was on his knees a long time. He retired and 
slept fitfully with many awakenings. He rose be- 
fore it was clear dawn, and threw open his window 
again. As the light in the east grew stronger he 
repeated to himself : “What would J esus do ? 
Shall I follow His steps ?” 

The sun rose and flooded the city with its power. 
When shall the dawn of a new discipleship usher 
in the conquering triumph of a closer walk with 
Jesus ? When shall Christendom tread more closely 
the path he made ? 

“It is the way the Master trod ; 

Shall not the servant tread it still?” 

With this question throbbing through his whole 
being, the Rev. Calvin Bruce, D.D., went back to 
Chicago, and the great crisis in his Christian life 
in the ministry suddenly broke irresistibly upon 
him. 


13 


198 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Master, I will follow Thee whithersoever thou goest. 

The Saturday afternoon matinee at the Audi- 
torium in Chicago was just over and the usual 
crowd was struggling to get to its carriage before 
any one else. The Auditorium attendant was 
shouting out the numbers of different carriages 
and the carriage doors were slamming as the horses 
were driven rapidly up to the curb, held there im- 
patiently by the drivers who had shivered long in 
the raw east wind, and then let go to plunge for a 
few minutes into the river of vehicles that tossed 
under the elevated railway and finally went whirl- 
ing off up the avenue. 

“Now then, 624,” shouted the Auditorium at- 
tendant ; “624 !” he repeated, and there dashed up 
to the curb a spendid span of black horses attached 
to a carriage having the monogram, “C. R. S.” in 
gilt letters on the panel of the door. 

Two girls stepped out of the crowd towards the 
carriage. The older one had entered and taken 
her seat and the attendant was still holding the 
door open for the younger, who stood hesitating on 
the curb. 

“Come, Felicia ! What are you waiting for ! I 
shall freeze to death called the voice from the 
carriage. 

The girl outside of the carriage hastily unpinned 
a bunch of English violets from her dress and 
handed them to a small boy who was standing shiv- 


199 ' 


In His Steps. 

ering on the edge of the sidewalk almost under the 
horses’ feet. He took them, with a look of aston- 
ishment and a “Thank ye, lady !” and instantly 
buried a very grimy face in the bunch of perfume. 
The girl stepped into the carriage, the door shut 
with the incisive bang peculiar to well-made car- 
riages of this sort, and in a few moments the coach- 
man was speeding the horses rapidly up one of the 
boulevards. 

“You are always doing some queer thing or 
other, Felicia,” said the older girl as the carriage 
•whirled on past the great residences already bril- 
liantly lighted. 

“Am I ? What have I done that is queer now, 
Rose?” asked the other, looking up suddenly and 
turning her head towards her sister. 

“Oh, giving those violets to that boy ! He looked 
as if he needed a good hot supper more than a 
bunch of violets. It’s a wonder you didn’t invite 
him home with us. I shouldn’t have been sur- 
prised if you had. You are always doing such 
queer things.” 

“Would it be queer to invite a boy like that to 
come to the house and get a hot supper?” Felicia 
asked the question softly and almost as if she were 
alone. 

“ ‘ Queer’ isn’t just the word, of course,” replied 
Rose indifferently. “It would be what Madam 
Blanc calls ‘outre.’ Decidedly. Therefore you 
will please not invite him or others like him to hot 
suppers because I suggested it. Oh, dear! I’m 
awfully tired !” 

She yawned, and Felicia silently looked out of 
the window in the door. 

“The concert was stupid, and the violinist was 


200 


In His Steps. 

simply a bore. I don’t see how you could sit so 
still through it all," Rose exclaimed a little im- 
patiently. 

“I liked the music/’ answer Felicia quietly. 

“You like anything. I never saw a girl with 
so little critical taste.” 

Felicia colored slightly, but would not answer. 
Rose yawned again, and then hummed a fragment 
of a popular song. Then she exclaimed abruptly : 

“I’m sick of ’most everything. I hope the 
‘Shadows of London’ will be exciting to-night.” 

“The ‘Shadows of Chicago,’ ” murmured Fe- 
licia. 

“The ‘Shadows of Chicago !’ The ‘Shadows of 
London,’ the pla}^ the great drama with its won- 
derful scenery, the sensation of New York for two 
months. You know we have a box with the De- 
lanos to-night.” 

Felicia turned her face toward her sister. Her 
great brown eyes were very expressive and not al- 
together free from a sparkle of luminous heat. 

“And yet we never weep over the real thing on 
the actual stage of life. What are the ‘Shadows 
of London’ on the stage to the shadows of London 
or Chicago as they really exist ? Why don’t we get 
excited over the facts as they are ?” 

“Because the actual people are dirty and dis- . 
agreeable and it’s too much bother, I suppose,” re- 
plied Rose carelessly. “Felicia, you can never re- 
form the world. What’s the use? We’re not to 
blame for the poverty and misery. There have al- 
ways been rich and poor ; and there always will be. 
We ought to be thankful we’re rich.” 

“Suppose Christ had gone on that principle,” 
replied Felicia with unusual persistence. “Do you 


In His Steps. 201 

remember Dr. Bruce’s sermon on that verse a few 
Sundays ago : ‘For ye know the grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, that though he was rich yet for our 
sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty 
might become rich’ ?” 

“I remember it well enough,” said Rose with 
some petulance, “and didn’t Dr. Bruce go on to say 
that there is no blame attached to people who have 
wealth if they are kind and give to the needs of 
the poor? And I am sure that he himself is 
pretty comfortably settled. He never gives up his 
luxuries just because some people go hungry. 
What good would it do if he did ? I tell you, Fe- 
licia, there will always be poor and rich in spite 
of all we can do. Ever since Rachel Winslow has 
written about those queer doings in Raymond you 
have upset the whole family. People can’t live 
at that concert pitch all the time. You see if 
Rachel doesn’t give it up soon. It’s a great pity 
she doesn’t come to Chicago and sing in the Audi- 
torium concerts. I heard to-day that she had re- 
ceived an offer. I’m going to write and urge her 
to come. I’m just dying to hear her sing.” 

Felicia looked out of the window and was silent. 
The carriage rolled on past two blocks of magnifi- 
cent private residences and turned into a wide 
driveway under a covered passage, and the sisters 
hurried into the house. It was an elegant mansion 
of gray stone furnished like a palace, every corner 
of it warm with the luxury of paintings, sculpture, 
art and modern refinement. 

The owner of it all, Mr. Charles R. Sterling, 
stood before an open grate fire smoking a cigar. He 
had made his money in grain speculation and rail- 
road ventures, and was reputed to be worth some- 


202 


In His Steps. 

thing over two millions. His wife was a sister of 
Mrs. Winslow of Raymond. She had been an in- 
valid for several years. The two girls, Rose and 
Felicia, were the only children. Rose was twenty- 
one years old, fair, vivacious, educated in a fash- 
ionable college, just entering society and already 
somewhat cynical and indifferent. A very hard 
young lady to please, her father said, sometimes 
playfully, sometimes sternly. Felicia was nine- 
teen, with a tropical beauty somewhat like her 
cousin, Rachel Winslow, with warm, generous im- 
pulses just waking into Christian feeling, capable 
of all sorts of expression, a puzzle to her father, a 
source of irritation to her mother and with a great 
unsurveyed territory of thought and action in her- 
self, of which she was more than dimly conscious. 
There was that in Felicia that would easily endure 
any condition in life if only the liberty to act fully 
on her conscientious convictions were granted her. 

“Here’s a letter for you, Felicia,” said Mr. Ster- 
ling, handing it to her. 

Felicia sat down and instantly opened the let- 
ter, saying as she did so : “It’s from Rachel.” 

“Well, what’s the latest news from Raymond?” 
asked Mr. Sterling, taking his cigar out of his 
mouth and looking at Felicia as he often did with 
half-shut eyes, as if he were studying her. 

“Rachel says Dr. Bruce has been staying in Ray- 
mond for two Sundays and has seemed very much 
interested in Mr. Maxwell’s pledge in the First 
Church.” 

“What does Rachel say about herself?” asked 
Rose, who was lying on a couch almost buried un- 
der a half dozen elegant cushions. 

“She is still singing at the Rectangle. Since 


In His Steps. 203 

the tent meetings closed she sings in an old hall 
until the new buildings which her friend, Virginia 
Page, is putting up are completed.” 

“I must write Rachel to come to Chicago and 
visit us. She ought not to throw away her voice 
in that railroad town upon all those people who 
don’t appreciate her.” 

Mr. Sterling lighted a new cigar and Rose ex- 
claimed : 

“Rachel is so queer. She might set Chicago 
wild with her voice if she sang in the Auditorium. 
And there she goes on throwing it away on people 
who don’t know what they are hearing.” 

“Rachel won’t come here unless she can do it 
and keep her pledge at the same time,” said Fe- 
licia, after a pause. 

“What pledge?” Mr. Sterling asked the ques- 
tion and then added hastily : “Oh, I know, yes ! 
A very peculiar thing that. Alexander Powers 
used to be a friend of mine. We learned teleg- 
raphy in the same office. Made a great sensation 
when he resigned and handed over that evidence to 
the Interstate Commerce Commission. And he’s 
back at his telegraph again. There have been queer 
doings in Raymond during the past year. I wonder 
what Dr. Bruce thinks of itron the whole. I must 
have a talk with him about it.” 

“He is at home and will preach to-morrow,” 
said Felicia. “Perhaps he will tell us something 
about it.” 

There was silence for a minute. Then Felicia 
said abruptly, as if she had gone on with a spoken 
thought to some invisible hearer: “And what if 
he should propose the same pledge to the Nazareth 
Avenue Church?” 


204 


In His Steps. 

“Who ? What are you talking about ?” asked her 
father a little sharply. 

“About Dr. Bruce. I say, what if he should 
propose to our church what Mr. Maxwell proposed 
to his, and ask for volunteers who would pledge 
themselves to do everything after asking the ques- 
tion, ‘What would Jesus do ?’ ” 

“There’s no danger of it,” said Rose, rising sud- 
denly from the couch as the tea-bell rang. 

“It’s a very impracticable movement, to my 
mind,” said Mr. Sterling shortly. 

“I understand from Rachel’s letter that the Ray- 
mond church is going to make an attempt to ex- 
tend the idea of the pledge to other churches. If 
it succeeds it will certainly make great changes in 
the churches and in people’s lives,” said Felicia. 

“Oh, well, let’s have some tea first !” said Rose, 
walking into the dining-room. Her father and 
Felicia followed, and the meal proceeded in silence. 
Mrs. Sterling had her meals served in her room. 
Mr. Sterling was preoccupied. He ate very little 
and excused himself early, and although it was 
Saturday night, he remarked as he went out that 
he should be down town late on some special busi- 
ness. 

“Don’t you think father looks very much dis- 
turbed lately?” asked Felicia a little while after 
he had gone out. 

“Oh, I don’t know ! I hadn’t noticed anything 
unusual,” replied Rose. After a silence she said : 
“Are you going to the play to-night, Felicia ? Mrs. 
Delano will be here at half past seven. I think 
you ought to go. She will feel hurt if you refuse.” 

“I’ll go. I don’t care about it. I can see shad- 
ows enough without going to the play.” 


205 


In His Steps. 

“That’s a doleful remark for a girl nineteen 
years old to make/’ replied Rose. “But then 
you’re queer in your ideas anyhow, Felicia. If you 
are going up to see mother, tell her I’ll run in after 
the play if she is still awake.” 

Felicia went up to see her mother and remained 
with her until the Delano carriage came. Mrs. 
Sterling was worried about her husband. She 
talked incessantly, and was irritated by every re- 
mark Felicia made. She would not listen to Fe- 
licia’s attempts to read even a part of Rachel’s let- 
ter, and when Felicia offered to stay with her for 
the evening, she refused the offer with a good deal 
of positive sharpness. 


) 




206 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

Felicia started off to the play not very happy, but 
she was familiar with that feeling, only sometimes 
she was more unhappy than at other times. Her 
feeling expressed itself to-night by a withdrawal 
into herself. When the company was seated in the 
box and the curtain had gone up Felicia was back 
of the others and remained for the evening by her- 
self. Mrs. Delano, as chaperon for half a dozen 
young ladies, understood Felicia well enough to 
know that she was “queer,” as Rose so often said, 
and she made no attempt to draw her out of her 
corner. And so the girl really experienced that 
night by herself one of the feelings that added to 
the momentum that was increasing the coming on 
of her great crisis. 

The play was an English melodrama, full of 
startling situations, realistic scenery and unex- 
pected climaxes. There was one scene in the third 
act that impressed even Rose Sterling. 

It was midnight on Blackfriars Bridge. The 
Thames flowed dark and forbidding below. St. 
Paul’s rose through the dim light imposing, its 
dome seeming to float above the buildings sur- 
rounding it. The figure of a child came upon the 
bridge and stood there for a moment peering about 
as if looking for some one. Several persons were 
crossing the bridge, but in one of the recesses about 
midway of the river a woman stood, leaning out 
over the parapet, with a strained agony of face and 
figure that told plainly of her intention. Just as 
she was stealthily mounting the parapet to throw 


In His Steps. 207 

herself into the river, the child caught sight of her, 
ran forward with a shrill cry more animal than 
human, and seizing the woman’s dress dragged 
back upon it with all her little strength. Then 
there came suddenly upon the scene two other char- 
acters who had already figured in the play, a tall, 
handsome, athletic gentleman dressed in the fash- 
ion, attended by a slim-figured lad who was as re- 
fined in dress and appearance as the little girl 
clinging to her mother was mournfully hideous in 
her rags and repulsive poverty. These two, the 
gentleman and the lad, prevented the attempted 
suicide, and after a tableau on the bridge where 
the audience learned that man and woman were 
brother and sister, the scene was transferred to the 
interior of one of the slum tenements in the East 
Side of London. Here the scene painter and car- 
penter had done their utmost to produce an exact 
copy of a famous court and alley well known to the 
poor creatures wdio make up a part of the outcast 
London humanity. The rags, the crowding, the 
vileness, the broken furniture, the horrible animal 
existence forced upon creatures made in God’s 
image were so skilfully shown in this scene that 
more than one elegant woman in the theatre, seated 
like Rose Sterling in a sumptuous box surrounded 
with silk hangings and velvet covered railing, 
caught herself shrinking back a little as if contami- 
nation w^ere possible from the nearness of this piece 
of scenery. It was almost too realistic, and yet it 
had a horrible fascination for Felicia as she sat 
there alone, buried back in a cushioned seat and 
absorbed in thoughts that went far beyond the 
dialogue on the stage. 

From the tenement scene the play shifted to the 


208 In His Steps. 

interior of a nobleman's palace, and almost a .sigh 
of relief went up all over the house at the sight of 
the accustomed luxury of the upper classes. The 
contrast was startling. It was brought about by a 
clever piece of staging that allowed only a few mo- 
ments to elapse between the slum and the palace 
scene. The dialogue went on, the actors came and 
went in their various roles, but upon Felicia the 
play made but one distinct impression. In reality 
the scenes on the bridge and in the slums were only 
incidents in the story of the play, but Felicia found 
herself living those scenes over and over. She had 
never philosophized about the causes of human 
misery, she was not old enough, she had not the 
temperament that philosophizes. But she felt in- 
tensely, and this was not the first time she had felt 
the contrast thrust into her feeling between the 
upper and the lower conditions of human life. It 
had been growing upon her until it had made her 
what Rose called “queer,” and other people in her 
circle of wealthy acquaintances called very un- 
usual. It was simply the human problem in its 
extreme of riches and poverty, its refinement and 
its vileness, that was, in spite of her unconscious 
attempts to struggle against the facts, burning into 
her life the impression that would in the end either 
transform her into a woman of rare love and self- 
sacrifice for the world, or a miserable enigma to 
herself and all who knew her. 

“Come, Felicia, aren’t you going home?” said 
Rose. The play was over, the curtain down, and 
people were going noisily out, laughing and gossip- 
ing as if “The. Shadows of London” were simply 
good diversion, as they were, put on the stage so 
effectively. 


209 


In His Steps. 

Felicia rose and went out with the rest quietly, 
and with the absorbed feeling that had actually left 
her in her seat oblivious of the play’s ending. " She 
was never absent-minded, but often thought her- 
self into a condition that left her alone in the 
midst of a crowd. 

"Well, what did you think of it?” asked Rose 
when the sisters had reached home and were in the 
drawing-room. Rose really had considerable re- 
spect for Felicia’s judgment of a play. 

"I thought it was a pretty fair picture of real 
life.” 

“I mean the acting,” said Rose, annoyed. 

“The bridge scene was well acted, especially the 
woman’s part. I thought the man overdid the sen- 
timent a little.” 

“Did you? I enjoyed that. And wasn’t the 
scene between the two cousins funny when they 
first learned they were related? But the slum 
scene was horrible. I think they ought not to show 
such things in a play. They are too painful.” 

“They must be painful in real life, too,” replied 
Felicia. 

“Yes, but we don’t have to look at the real thing. 
It’s bad enough at the theatre where We pay for it.” 

Rose went into the dining-room and began to eat 
from a plate of fruit and cakes on the sideboard. 

“Are you going up to see mother ?” asked Felicia 
after a while. She had remained in front of the 
drawing-room fire. 

“No,” replied Rose from the other room. “I 
won’t trouble her to-night. If you go in tell her I 
am too tired to be agreeable.” 

So Felicia turned into her mother’s room, as she 
went up the great staircase and down the upper 


210 In His Steps. 

hall. The light was burning there, and the servant 
who always waited on Mrs. Sterling was beckoning 
Felicia to come in. 

“Tell Clara to go out,” exclaimed Mrs. Sterling 
as Felicia came up to the bed. 

Felicia was surprised, but she did as her mother 
bade her, and then inquired how she was feeling. 

“Felicia,” said her mother, “can you pray ?” 

The question was so unlike any her mother had 
ever asked before that she was startled. But she 
answered : 

“Why, yes, mother. Why do you ask such a 
question ?” 

“Felicia, I am frightened. You father — I have 
had such strange fears about him all day. Some- 
thing is wrong with him. I want you to pray.” 

“How, here, mother?” 

“Yes. Pray, Felicia.” 

Felicia reached out her hand and took her 
mother’s. It was trembling. Mrs. Sterling had 
never shown such tenderness for her younger 
daughter, and her strange demand now was the 
first real sign of any confidence in Felicia’s char- 
acter. 

The girl kneeled, still holding her mother’s 
trembling hand, and prayed. It is doubtful if she 
had ever prayed aloud before. She must have said 
in her prayer the words that her mother needed, 
for when it was silent in the room the invalid was 
weeping softly and her nervous tension was over. 

Felicia stayed some time. When she was assured 
that her mother would not need her any longer she 
rose to go. 

“Good night, mother. You must let Clara call 
me if you feel bad in the night.” 


211 


In His Steps. 

“I feel better now/’ Then as Felicia was mov- 
ing away Mrs. Sterling said: “Won’t you kiss me, 
Felicia?” 

Felicia went back and bent over her mother. The 
kiss was almost as strange to her as the prayer had 
been. When Felicia went out of the room her 
cheeks were wet with tears. She had not often 
cried since she was a little child. 

Sunday morning at the Sterling mansion was 
generally very quiet. The girls usually went to 
church, at eleven o’clock service. Mr. Sterling 
was not a member but a heavy contributor, and he 
generally went to church in the morning. This 
time he did not come down to breakfast, and finally 
sent word by a servant that he did not feel well 
enough to go out. So Rose and Felicia drove up 
to the door of the Nazareth Avenue Church and 
entered the family pew alone. 

When Dr. Bruce walked out of the room at the 
rear of the platform and went up to the pulpit to 
open the Bible as his custom was, those who knew 
him best did not detect anything unusual in his 
manner or his expression. He proceeded with the 
service as usual. He was calm and his voice was 
steady and firm. His prayer was the first intima- 
tion the people had of anything new or strange in 
the service. It is safe to say that the Nazareth 
Avenue Church had not heard Dr. Bruce offer such 
a prayer before during the twelve years he had 
been pastor there. How would a minister be likely 
to pray wdio had come out of a revolution in Chris- 
tian feeling that had completely changed his defini- 
tion of what was meant by following Jesus? No 
one in Nazareth Avenue Church had any idea that 
the Rev. Calvin Bruce, D.D., the dignified,, cul- 


212 


In His Steps. 

tured, refined Doctor of Divinity, had within a few 
days been crying like a little child on his knees, 
asking for strength and conrage and Christlike- 
ness to speak his Sunday message; and yet the 
prayer was an unconscious involuntary disclosure 
of his soul’s experience such as the Nazareth Ave- 
nue people had seldom heard, and never before 
from that pulpit. 

In the hush that succeeded the prayer a distinct 
wave of spiritual power moved over the congrega- 
tion. The most careless persons in the church felt 
it. Felicia, whose sensitive religious nature re- 
sponded swiftly to every touch of emotion, quiv- 
ered under the passing of that supernatural pres- 
sure, and when she lifted her head and looked up 
at the minister there was a look in her eyes that 
announced her intense, eager anticipation of the 
scene that was to follow. And she was not alone in 
her attitude. There was something in the prayer 
and the result of it that stirred many and many a 
disciple in that church. All over the house men 
and women leaned forward, and when Dr. Bruce 
began to speak of his visit to Raymond, in the open- 
ing sentence of his address which this morning pre- 
ceded his sermon, there was an answering response 
in the people that came back to him as he spoke, 
and thrilled him with the hope of a spiritual bap- 
tism such as he had never during all his ministry 
experienced. 


In His Steps. 


213 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

“I am just back from a visit to Raymond,” Dr. 
Bruce began, “and I want to tell you something 
of my impressions of the movement there.” 

He paused and his look went out over his people 
with yearning for them and at the same time with 
a great uncertainty at his heart. How many of 
his rich, fashionable, refined, luxury-loving mem- 
bers would understand the nature of the appeal he 
was soon to make to them? He was altogether 
in the dark as to that. Nevertheless he had been 
through his desert, and had come out of it ready 
to suffer. He went on now after that brief pause 
and told the story of his stay in Raymond. The 
people already knew something of that experiment 
in the First Church. The whole country had 
watched the progress of the pledge as it had be- 
come history in so many lives. Mr. Maxwell had 
at last decided that the time had come to seek the 
fellowship of other churches throughout the coun- 
try. The new discipleship in Raymond had proved 
to be so valuable in its results that he wished the 
churches in general to share with the disciples in 
Rajunond. Already there had begun a volunteer 
movement in many churches throughout the coun- 
try, acting on their own desire to walk closer in 
the steps of Jesus. The Christian Endeavor Socie- 
ties had, with enthusiasm, in many churches taken 
the pledge to do as Jesus would do, and the result 
was already marked in a deeper spiritual life and 
14 


214 


In His Steps. 

a power in church influence that was like a new 
birth for the members. 

All this Dr. Bruce told his people simply and 
with a personal interest that evidently led the way 
to the announcement which now followed. Fe- 
licia had listened to every word with strained at- 
tention. She sat there by the side of Bose, in con- 
trast like fire beside snow, although even Bose was 
alert and as excited as she could be. 

“Dear friends/’ he said, and for the first time 
since his prayer the emotion of the occasion was 
revealed in his voice and gesture, “I am going to 
ask that Nazareth Avenue Church take the same 
pledge that Baymond Church has taken. 1 know 
what this will mean to you and me. It will mean 
the complete change of very many habits. It will 
mean, possibly, social loss. It will mean very 
probably, in many cases, loss of money. It will 
mean suffering. It will mean what following Jesus 
meant in the first century, and then it meant 
suffering, loss, hardship, separation from every- 
thing un-Christian. But what does following Jesus 
mean ? The test of discipleship is the same 
now as then. Those of us who volunteer in this 
church to do as Jesus would do, simply promise 
to walk in His steps as He gave us commandment.” 

Again he paused, and now the result of his an- 
nouncement was plainly visible in the stir that 
went up over the congregation. He added in a 
quiet voice that all who volunteered to make the 
pledge to do as Jesus would do, were asked to re- 
main after the morning service. 

Instantly he proceeded with his sermon. His 
text was, “Master, I will follow Thee whithersoever 
Thou goest.” It was a sermon that touched the 


In His Steps. 215 

deep springs of conduct; it was a revelation to the 
people of the definition their pastor had been learn- 
ing; it took them back to the first century of Chris- 
tianity; above all, it stirred them below the con- 
ventional thought of years as to the meaning and 
purpose of church membership. It was such a 
sermon as a man can preach once in a lifetime, and 
with enough in it for people to live on all through 
the rest of their lifetime. 

The service closed in a hush that was slowly 
broken. People rose here and there, a few at a 
time. There was a reluctance in the movements of 
some that was very striking. Rose, however, 
walked straight out of the pew, and as she reached 
the aisle she turned her head and beckoned to 
Felicia. By that time the congregation was rising 
all over the church. “I am going to stay,” she 
said, and Rose had heard her speak in the same 
manner on other occasions, and knew that her re- 
solve could not be changed. Nevertheless she 
went back into the pew two or three steps and faced 
her. 

“Felicia,” she whispered, and there was a flush 
of anger on her cheeks, “this is folly. What can 
you do? You will bring some disgrace on the 
family. What will father say? ComeP 

Felicia looked at her but did not answer at once. 
Her lips were moving with a petition that came 
from the depth of feeling that measured a new life 
for her. She shook her head. 

“No, I am going to stay. I shall take the pledge. 
I am ready to obey it. You do not know why I am 
doing this.” 

Rose gave her one look and then turned and 
went out of the pew, and down the aisle. She did 


216 In His Steps. 

• 

not even stop to talk with her acquaintances. Mrs. 
Delano was going out of the church just as Rose 
stepped into the vestibule. 

“So you are not going to join Dr. Bruce’s volun- 
teer company?” Mrs. Delano asked, in a queer tone 
that made Rose redden. 

“Ho, are you? It is simply absurd. I have al- 
ways regarded that Raymond movement as fanat- 
ical. You know cousin Rachel keeps us posted 
about it.” 

“Yes, I understand it is resulting in a great deal 
of hardship in many cases. For my part, I believe 
Dr. Bruce has simply provoked disturbance here. 
It will result in splitting our church. You see if 
it isn’t so. There are scores of people in the 
church who are so situated that they can’t take 
such a pledge and keep it. I am one of them,” 
added Mrs. Delano as she went out with Rose. 

When Rose reached home, her father was stand- 
ing in his usual attitude before the open fireplace, 
smoking a cigar. 

“Where is Felicia?” he asked as Rose came in. 

“She stayed to an after-meeting,” replied Rose 
shortly. She threw off her wraps and was going 
upstairs when Mr. Sterling called after her. 
f “An after-meeting? What do you mean?” 

“Dr. Bruce asked the church to take the Ray- 
mond pledge.” 

Mr. Sterling took his cigar out of his mouth and 
twirled it nervously between his fingers. 

“I didn’t expect that of Dr. Bruce. Did many 
of the members stay?” 

“I don’t know. I didn’t,” replied Rose, and she 
went upstairs leaving her father standing in the 
drawing-room. 


In His Steps. 217 

After a few moments he went to the window and 
stood there looking out at the people driving on 
the boulevard. His cigar had gone out, but he still 
fingered it nervously. Then he turned from the 
window and walked up and down the room. A 
servant stepped across the hall and announced 
dinner and he told her to wait for Felicia. Rose 
came downstairs and went into the library. And 
still Mr. Sterling paced the drawing-room rest- 
lessly. 

He had finally wearied of the walking appar- 3 
ently, and throwing himself into a chair was brood- 
ing over something deeply when Felicia came in. 

lie rose and faced her. Felicia was evidently 
very much moved by the meeting from which she 
had just come. At the same time she did not wish 
to talk too much about it. Just as she entered the 
drawing-room. Rose came in from the library. 

“How many stayed ?” she asked. Rose was curi- 
ous. At the same time she was skeptical of the 
whole movement in Raymond. 

“About a hundred,” replied Felicia gravely. 
Mr. Sterling looked surprised. Felicia was going 
out of the room, but he called to her: 

“Do you really mean to keep the pledge?” he 
asked. 

Felicia colored. Over hqr face and neck the 
warm blood flowed and she answered, “You would 
not ask such a question, father, if you had been at 
the meeting.” She lingered a moment in the room, 
then asked to be excused from dinner for a while 
and went up to see her mother. 

No one but they two ever knew what that inter- 
view between Felicia and her mother was. It is 
certain that stye must have told her mother some- 


218 


In His Steps. 

thing of the spiritual power that had awed every 
person present in the company of disciples who 
faced I)r. Bruce in that meeting after the morning 
service. It is also certain that Felicia had never 
before known such an experience, and would never 
have thought of sharing it with her mother if it had 
not been for the prayer the evening before. An- 
other fact is also known of Felicia’s experience at 
this time. When she finally joined her father and 
Bose at the table she seemed unable to tell them 
much about the meeting. There was a reluctance 
to speak of it as one might hesitate to attempt a 
description of a wonderful sunset to a person who 
never talked about anything but the weather. 

When that Sunday in the Sterling mansion was 
drawing to a close and the soft, warm lights 
throughout the dwelling were glowing through the 
great windows, in a corner of her room, where the 
light was obscure, Felicia kneeled, and when she 
raised her face and turned it towards the light, it 
was the face of a woman who had already defined 
for herself the greatest issues of earthly life. 

That same evening, after the Sunday evening 
service, Dr. Bruce was talking over the events of 
the day with his wife. They were of one heart and 
mind in the matter, and faced their new future 
with all the faith and courage of new disciples. 
Neither was deceived as to the probable results of 
the pledge to themselves or to the church. 

They had been talking but a little while when 
the bell rang and Dr. Bruce going to the door ex- 
claimed, as he opened it: 

“It is you, Edward! Come in!” 

There came into the hall a commanding figure. 
The Bishop was of extraordinary height and 


In His Steps. 219 

breadth of shoulder, but of such good proportions 
that there was no thought of ungainly or even of 
unusual size. The impression the Bishop made 
on strangers was, first, that of great health, and 
then of great affection. 

He came into the parlor and greeted Mrs. Bruce, 
who after a few moments was called out of the 
room, leaving the two men together. The Bishop 
sat in a deep, easy chair before the open fire. There 
was just enough dampness in the early spring of 
the year to make an open fire pleasant. 

“Calvin, you have taken a very serious step to- 
day,” he finally said, lifting his large dark eyes 
to his old college classmate’s face. “I heard of it 
this afternoon. I could not resist the desire to 
see you about it to-night.” 

“I’m glad you came.” Dr. Bruce laid a hand 
on the Bishop’s shoulder. “You understand what 
this means, Edward?” 

“I think I do. Yes, I am sure.” The Bishop 
spoke very slowly and thoughtfully. He sat with 
his hands clasped together. Over his face, marked 
with lines of consecration and service and the love 
of men, a shadow crept, a shadow not caused by 
the firelight. Again he lifted his eyes towards his 
old friend. 

“Calvin, we have always understood each other. 
Ever since our paths led us in different ways in 
church life we have walked together in Christian 
fellowship.” 

“It is true,” replied Dr. Bruce with an emotion 
he made no attempt to conceal or subdue. “Thank 
God for it. I prize your fellowship more than any 
other man’s. I have always known what it meant, 
though it has always been more than I deserve.” 


220 


In His Steps. 

The Bishop looked affectionately at his friend. 
But the shadow still rested on his face. After a 
pause he spoke again: 

“The new discipleship means a crisis for you in 
your work. If you keep this pledge to do all things 
as J esus would do — as I know you will — it requires 
no prophet to predict some remarkable changes in 
your parish.” The Bishop looked wistfully at his 
friend and then continued : “In fact, I do not see 
how a perfect upheaval of Christianity, as we now 
know it, can be prevented if the ministers and 
churches generally take the Raymond pledge and 
live it out.” He paused as if he were waiting for 
his friend to say something, to ask some question. 
But Bruce did not know of the fire that was burn- 
ing in the Bishop’s heart over the very question 
that Maxwell and himself had fought out. 

“How, in my church, for instance,” continued 
the Bishop, “it would be rather a difficult matter, 
I fear, to find very many people who would take a 
pledge like that and live up to it. Martyrdom is 
a lost art with us. Our Christianity loves its ease 
and comfort too well to take up anything so rough 
and heavy as a cross. And yet what does follow- 
ing Jesus mean ? What is it to walk in His steps ?” 

The Bishop was soliloquizing now and it is 
doubtful if he thought, for the moment, of his 
friend’s presence. For the first time there flashed 
into Dr. Bruce’s mind a suspicion of the truth. 
What if the Bishop should throw the weight of his 
great influence on the side of the Raymond move- 
ment? He had the following of the most aristo- 
cratic, wealthy, fashionable people, not only in 
Chicago, but in several large cities. What if the 
Bishop should join this new discipleship! 


221 


In His Steps. 

The thought was about to be followed by the 
word. Dr. Bruce had reached out his hand and 
with the familiarity of lifelong friendship had 
placed it on the Bishop’s shoulder and was about 
to ask a very important question, when they were 
both startled by the violent ringing of the bell. 
Mrs. Bruce had gone to the door and was talking 
with some one in the hall. There was a loud ex- 
t clamation and then, as the Bishop rose and Bruce 
was stepping toward the curtain that hung before 
the entrance to the parlor, Mrs. Bruce pushed it 
aside. Her face was white and she was trembling. 

“0 Calvin! Such terrible news! Mr. Sterling 
— oh, I cannot tell it ! What a blow to those 
girls!” 

“What is it?” Mr. Bruce advanced with the 
Bishop into the hall and confronted the messenger, 
a servant from the Sterlings. The man was with- 
out his hat and had evidently run over with the 
news, as Dr. Bruce lived nearest of any intimate 
friends of the family. 

“Mr. Sterling shot himself, sir, a few minutes 
ago. He killed himself in his bed-room. Mrs. 
Sterling — ” 

“I will go right over, Edward. Will you go with 
me? The Sterlings are old friends of yours.” 

The Bishop was very pale, but calm as always. 
He looked his friend in the face and answered : 

“Aye, Calvin, I will go with you not only to this 
house of d#ath, but also the whole way of human 
sin and sorrow, please God.” 

And even in that moment of horror at the un- 
expected news, Dr. Bruce understood what the 
Bishop had promised to do. 


222 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

These are they which follow the Lamb whitherso- 
ever He goeth. 

When Dr. Bruce and the Bishop entered the 
Sterling mansion everything in the usually well 
appointed household was in the greatest confusion 
and terror. The great rooms downstairs were 
empty, but overhead were hurried footsteps and 
confused noises. One of the servants ran down the 
grand staircase with a look of horror on her face 
just as the Bishop and Dr. Bruce were starting to 
go up. 

“Miss Felicia is with Mrs. Sterling/ 7 the servant 
stammered in answer to a question, and then burst 
into a hysterical cry and ran through the drawing- 
room and out of doors. 

At the top of the staircase the two men were met 
by Felicia. She walked up to Dr. Bruce at once 
and put both hands in his. The Bishop then laid 
his hand on her head and the three stood there a 
moment in perfect silence. The Bishop had 
known Felicia since she was a little child. He was 
the first to break silence. 

“The God of all mercy be with you, Felicia, in 
this dark hour. Your mother — 77 

The Bishop hesitated. Out of the buried past 
he had, during his hurried passage from his 
friend’s to this house of death, irresistibly drawn 
the one tender romance of his young manhood. 
Not even Bruce knew that. But there had been a 
time when the Bishop had offered the incense of a 


223 


In Ilis Steps. 

singularly undivided affection upon the altar of 
his youth to the beautiful Camilla Rolfe, and she 
had chosen between him and the millionaire. The 
Bishop carried no bitterness with his memory ; but 
it was still a memory. 

For answer to the Bishop’s unfinished query, 
Felicia turned and went back into her mother’s 
room. She had not said a word yet, but both men 
were struck with her wonderful calm. She re- 
turned to the hall door and beckoned to them, and 
the two ministers, with a feeling that they were 
about to behold something very unusual, entered. 

Rose lay with her arms outstretched upon the 
bed. Clara, the nurse, sat with her head covered, 
sobbing in spasms of terror. And Mrs. Sterling 
with “the light that never was on sea or land" 
luminous on her face, lay there so still that even 
the Bishop w^as deceived at first. Then, as the great 
truth broke upon him and Dr. Bruce, he staggered, 
and the sharp agony of the old wound shot through 
him. It passed, and left him standing there in 
that chamber of death with the eternal calmness 
and strength that the children of God have a right 
to possess. And right well he used that calmness 
and strength in the days that followed. 

The next moment the house below was in a tu- 
mult. Almost at the same time the doctor who 
had been sent for at once, but lived some distance 
away, came in, together with police officers, who 
had been summoned by frightened servants. With 
them were four or five newspaper correspondents 
and several neighbors. Dr. Bruce and the Bishop 
met this miscellaneous crowd at the head of the 
stairs and succeeded in excluding all except those 
whose presence was necessary. With these the 


224 


In His Steps. 

two friends learned all the facts ever known about 
the “Sterling tragedy,” as the papers in their sen- 
sational accounts next day called it. 

Mr. Sterling had gone into his room that evening 
about nine o’clock and that was the last seen of 
him until, in half an hour, a shot was heard in the 
room, and a servant who was in the hall ran into 
the room and found him dead on the floor, killed 
by his own hand. Felicia at the time was sitting 
by her mother. Rose was reading in the library. 
She ran upstairs, saw her father as he was being 
lifted upon the couch by the servants, and then ran 
screaming into her mother’s room, where she flung 
herself down at the foot of the bed in a swoon. 
Mrs. Sterling had at first fainted at the shock, then 
rallied with a wonderful swiftness and sent for 
Dr. Bruce. She had then insisted on seeing her 
husband. In spite of Felicia's efforts, she had 
compelled Clara and the housemaid, terrified and 
trembling, to support her while she crossed the hall 
and entered the room where her husband lay. She 
had looked upon him with a tearless face, had gone 
back to her own room, was laid on her bed, and as 
Dr. Bruce and the Bishop entered the house she, 
with a prayer of forgiveness for herself and for 
her husband on her quivering lips, had died, with 
Felicia bending over her and Rose still lying sense- 
less at her feet. 

So great and swift had been the entrance of grim 
Death into that palace of luxury that Sunday 
night ! But the full cause of his coming was not 
learned until the facts in regard to Mr. Sterling’s 
business affairs were finally disclosed. 

Then it was learned that for some time he had 
been facing financial ruin owing to certain specu- 


In His Steps. 225 

lations that had in a month's time swept his sup- 
posed wealth into complete destruction. With the 
cunning and desperation of a man who battles for 
his very life when he saw his money, which was 
all the life he ever valued, slipping from him, he 
had put off the evil day to the last moment. Sun- 
day afternoon, however, he had received news that 
proved to him beyond a doubt the fact of his utter 
ruin. The very house that he called his, the chairs 
in which he sat, his carriage, the dishes from which 
he ate, had all been bought with money for which 
he himself had never really done an honest stroke 
of pure labor. 

It had all rested on a tissue of deceit and specula- 
tion that had no foundation in real values. He 
knew that fact better than any one else, but he had 
hoped, with the hope such men always have, that 
the same methods that brought him the money 
would also prevent the loss. He had been deceived 
in this as many others have been. As soon as the 
truth that he was practically a beggar had dawned 
upon him, he saw no escape from suicide. It was 
the irresistible result of such a life as he had lived. 
He had made money his god. As soon as that god , 
was gone out of his little world there was nothing 
more to worship; and when a man’s object of wor- 
ship is gone he has no more to live for. Thus died 
the great millionaire, Charles R. Sterling. And, 
verily, he died as the fool dieth, for what is the 
gain or the loss of money compared with the un- 
searchable riches of eternal life which are beyond 
the reach of speculation, loss or change ? 

Mrs. Sterling’s death was the result of the shock. 
She had not been taken into her husband’s confi- 
dence for years, but she knew that the source of 


226 


In His Steps. 

his wealth was precarious. Her life for several 
years had been a death in life. The Rolfes al- 
ways gave an impression that they could endure 
more disaster unmoved than any one else. Mrs. 
Sterling illustrated the old family tradition when 
she was carried into the room where her husband 
lay. But the feeble tenement could not hold the 
spirit and it gave up the ghost, torn and weakened 
by long years of suffering and disappointment. 

The effect of this triple blow, the death of father 
and mother, and the loss of property, was instantly 
apparent in the sisters. The horror of events 
stupefied Rose for weeks. She lay unmoved by sym- 
pathy or any effort to rally. She did not seem yet 
to realize that the money which had been so large 
a part of her very existence was gone. Even when 
she was told that she and Felicia must leave the 
house and be dependent on relatives and friends, 
she did not seem to understand what it meant. 

Felicia, however, was fully conscious of the facts. 
She knew just what had happened and why. She 
was talking over her future plans with her cousin 
Rachel a few days after the funerals. Mrs. Win- 
slow and Rachel had left Raymond and come to 
Chicago at once as soon as the terrible news had 
reached them, and with other friends of the family 
were planning for the future of Rose and Felicia. 

“Felicia, you and Rose must come to Raymond 
with us. That is settled. Mother will not hear 
to any other plan at present,” Rachel had said, 
while her beautiful face glowed with love for her 
cousin, a love that had deepened day by day, and 
was intensified by the knowledge that they both 
belonged to the new discipleship. 

“Unless I can find something to do here,” an- 


227 


In His Steps. 

swered Felicia. She looked wistfully at Rachel, 
and Rachel said gently : 

“What could you do, dear ?” 

“Nothing. I was never taught to do anything 
except a little music, and I do not know enough 
about it to teach it or earn my living at it. I 
have learned to cook a little,” Felicia added with a 
slight smile. 

“Then you can cook for us. Mother is always 
having trouble with her kitchen,” said Rachel, un- 
derstanding well enough she was now dependent 
for her very food and shelter upon the kindness 
of family friends. It is true the girls received a 
little something out of the wreck of their father’s 
fortune, but with a speculator’s mad folly he had 
managed to involve both his wife’s and his chil- 
dren’s portion in the common ruin. 

“Can I? Can I?” Felicia replied to Rachel’s 
proposition as if it were to be considered seriously. 
“I am ready to do anything honorable to make my 
living and that of Rose. Poor Rose ! She will 
never be able to get over the shock of our trouble.” 

“We will arrange the details when we get to 
Raymond,” Rachel said, smiling through her tears 
at Felicia’s eager willingness to care for herself. 

So in a few weeks Rose and Felicia found them- 
selves a part of the Winslow family in Raymond. 
It was a bitter experience for Rose, but there was 
nothing else for her to do and she accepted the 
inevitable, brooding over the great change in her 
life and in many ways adding to the burden of 
Felicia and her cousin Rachel. 

Felicia at once found herself in an atmosphere 
of discipleship that was like heaven to her in its 
revelation of companionship. It is true that Mrs. 


228 


In His Steps. 

Winslow was not in sympathy with the course that 
Rachel was taking, but the remarkable events in 
Raymond since the pledge was taken were too pow- 
erful in their results not to impress even such a 
woman as Mrs. Winslow. With Rachel, Felicia 
found a perfect fellowship. She at once found a 
part to take in the new work at the Rectangle. In 
the spirit of her new life she insisted upon helping 
in the housework at her aunt’s, and in a short time 
demonstrated her ability as a cook so clearly that 
Virginia suggested that she take charge of the 
cooking class at the Rectangle. 

Felicia entered upon this work with the keenest 
pleasure. For the first time in her life she had 
the delight of doing something of value for the 
happiness of others. Her resolve to do everything 
after asking, “What would Jesus do?” touched her 
deepest nature. She began to develop and 
strengthen wonderfully. Even Mrs. Winslow was 
obliged to acknowledge the great usefulness and 
beauty of Felicia’s character. The aunt looked 
with astonishment upon her niece, this city-bred 
girl, reared in the greatest luxury, the daughter of 
a' millionaire, now walking around in her kitchen, 
her arms covered with flour and occasionally a 
streak of it on her nose, for Felicia at first had a 
habit of rubbing her nose forgetfully when she was 
trying to remember some recipe, mixing various 
dishes with the greatest interest in their results, 
washing up pans and kettles and doing the ordi- 
nary work of a servant in the Winslow kitchen and 
at the rooms at the Rectangle Settlement. At first 
Mrs. Winslow remonstrated. 

“Felicia, it is not your place to be out here 
doing this common work. I cannot allow it.” 


229 


In His Steps. 

“Why, Aunt? Don’t you like the muffins I 
made this morning?” Felicia would ask meekly, 
but with a hidden smile, knowing her aunt’s weak- 
ness for that kind of muffin. 

“They were beautiful, Felicia. But it does not 
seem right for you to be doing such work for us.” 

“Why not ? What else can I do ?” 

Her aunt looked at her thoughtfully, noting her 
remarkable beauty of face and expression. 

“You do not always intend to do this kind of 
work, Felicia?” 

“Maybe I shall. I have had a dream of open- 
ing an ideal cook shop in Chicago or some large 
city and going around to the poor families in some 
slum district like the Rectangle, teaching the 
mothers how to prepare food properly. I remem- 
ber hearing Dr. Bruce say once that he believed 
one of the great miseries of comparative poverty 
consisted in poor food. He even went so far as to 
say that he thought some kinds of crime could be 
traced to soggy biscuit and tough beefsteak. I’m 
sure I would be able to make a living for Rose and 
myself and at the same time help others.” 

Felicia brooded over this dream until it became 
a reality. Meanwhile she grew into the affections 
of the Raymond people and the Rectangle folks, 
among whom she was known as the “angel cook.” 
Underneath the structure of the beautiful charac- 
ter she was growing, always rested her promise 
made in Nazareth Avenue Church. “What would 
Jesus do ?” She prayed and hoped and worked and 
regulated her life by the answer to that question. 
It was the inspiration of her conduct and the an- 
swer to all her ambition. 


15 


230 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Three months had gone by since the Sunday 
morning when Dr. Bruce came into his pulpit with 
the message of the new discipleship. They were 
three months of great excitement in Nazareth Ave- 
nue Church. Never before had Rev. Calvin Bruce 
realized how deep the feeling of his members 
flowed. He humbly confessed that the appeal he 
had made met with an unexpected response from 
men and women who, like Felicia, were hungry for 
something in their lives that the conventional type 
of church membership and fellowship had failed to 
give them. 

But Dr. Bruce was not yet satisfied for himself. 
He cannot tell what his feeling was or what led to 
the movement he finally made, to the great aston- 
ishment of all who knew him, better than by relat- 
ing a conversation between him and the Bishop at 
this time in the history of the pledge in Nazareth 
Avenue Church. The two friends were as before 
in Dr. Bruce’s house, seated in his study. 

“You know what I have come in this evening 
for ?” the Bishop was saying after the friends had 
been talking some time about the results of the 
pledge with the Nazareth Avenue people. 

Dr. Bruce looked over at the Bishop and shook 
his head. 

“I have come to confess that I have not yet kept 
my promise to walk in His steps in the way that I 
believe I shall be obliged to if I satisfy my thought 
of what it means to walk in His steps.” 


231 


In His Steps. 

Dr. Bruce had risen and was pacing his study. 
The Bishop remained in the deep easy chair with 
his hands clasped, but his eye burned with the 
glow that belonged to him before he made some 
great resolve. 

“Edward,” Dr. Bruce spoke abruptly, “I have 
not yet been able to satisfy myself, either, in obeying 
my promise. But I have at last decided on my 
course. In order to follow it I shall be obliged to 
resign from Nazareth Avenue Church.” 

“I knew you would,” replied the Bishop quietly. 
“And I came in this evening to say that I shall be 
obliged to do the same with my charge.” 

Dr. Bruce turned and walked up to his friend. 
They were both laboring under a repressed excite- 
ment. 

“Is it necessary in your case ?” asked Bruce. 

“Yes. Let me state my reasons. Probably they 
are the same as yours. In fact, I am sure they are.” 
The Bishop paused a moment, then went on with 
increasing feeling : 

“Calvin, you know how many years I have been 
doing the work of my position, and you know some- 
thing of the responsibility and the care of it. I do- 
not mean to say that my life has been free from 
burden-bearing or sorrow. But I have certainly 
led what the poor and desperate of this sinful city, 
would call a very comfortable, yes, a very luxurious 
life. I have had a beautiful house to live in, the 
most expensive food, clothing and physical pleas- 
ures. I have been able to go abroad at least a 
dozen times, and have enjoyed for years the beauti- 
ful companionship of art and letters and music and 
all the rest, of the very best. I have never known 
what it meant to be without money or its equiva- 


232 


In His Steps. 

lent. And I have been unable to silence the ques- 
tion of late : ‘What have I suffered for the sake of 
Christ V Paul was told what great things he must 
suffer for the sake of his Lord. Maxwell’s position 
at Eaymond is well taken when he insists that to 
walk in the steps of Christ means to suffer. Where 
has my suffering come in? The petty trials and 
annoyances of my clerical life are not worth men- 
tioning as sorrows or sufferings. Compared with 
Paul or any of the Christian martyrs or early dis- 
ciples I have lived a luxurious, sinful life, full of 
oase and pleasure. I cannot endure this any lon- 
ger. I have that within me which of late rises in 
overwhelming condemnation of such a following of 
Jesus. I have not been walking in His steps. 
Under the present system of church and social life 
1 see no escape from this condemnation except to 
give the most of my life personally to the actual 
physical and soul needs of the wretched people in 
the worst part of this city.” 

The Bishop had risen now and walked over to the 
window. The street in front of the house was as 
light as day, and he looked out at the crowds pass- 
ing, then turned and with a passionate utterance 
that showed how deep the volcanic fire in him 
burned, he exclaimed : 

“Calvin, this is a terrible city in which we live ! 
Its misery, its sin, its selfishness, appall my heart. 
And I have struggled for years with the sickening 
dread of the time when I should be forced to leave 
the pleasant luxury of my official position to put 
my life into contact with the modern paganism of 
this century. The awful condition of the girls in 
some great business places, the brutal selfishness of 
the insolent society fashion and wealth that ignores 


23a 


In His Steps. 

all the sorrow of the city, the fearful curse of the- 
drink and gambling hell, the wail of the unem- 
ploy ed/the hatred of the church by countless men. 
who see in it only great piles of costly stone and 
upholstered furniture and the minister as a luxuri- 
ous idler, all the vast tumult of this vast torrent of 
humanity with its false and its true ideas, its exag- 
geration of evils in the church and its bitterness 
and shame that are the result of many complex 
causes, all this as a total fact in its contrast witli 
the easy, comfortable life I have lived, fills me more 
and more with a sense of mingled terror and self- 
accusation. I have heard the words of Jesus many 
times lately : ‘Inasmuch as jre did it not unto one 
of these least my brethren, ye did it not unto Me/ 
And when have I personally visited the prisoner or 
the desperate or the sinful in any way that has act- 
ually caused me suffering? Rather, I have fol- 
lowed the conventional soft habits of my position 
and have lived in the society of the rich, refined, 
aristocratic members of my congregations. Where 
has the suffering come in ? What have I suffered 
for J esus’ sake ? Do you know, Calvin,” he turned 
abruptly toward his friend, “I have been tempted 
of late to lash myself with a scourge. If I had 
lived in Martin Luther’s time I should have bared 
my back to a self-inflicted torture.” 

Dr. Bruce was very pale. Never had he seen the 
Bishop or heard him when under the influence of 
such a passion. There was a sudden silence in the 
room. The Bishop sat down again and bowed his 
head. 

Dr. Bruce spoke at last: 

“Edward, I do not need to say that you have ex- 
pressed my feelings also. I have been in a similar 


234 


In Ilis Steps. 

position for years. My life has been one of com- 
parative luxury. I do not, of course, mean to say 
that I have not had trials and discouragements and 
burdens in my church ministry. But I cannot say 
-that I have suffered any for Jesus. That verse in 
Peter constantly haunts me: ‘Christ also suffered 
for you, leaving you an example that ye should fol- 
low His steps/ I have lived in luxury. I do not 
know what it means to want. I also have had my 
leisure for travel and beautiful companionship. I 
have been surrounded by the soft, easy comforts of 
^civilization. The sin and misery of this great city 
have beaten like waves against the stone walls of 
iny church and of this house in which I live, and I 
have hardly heeded them, the walls have been so 
thick. I have reached a point where I cannot en- 
dure this any longer. I am not condemning the 
Church. I love her. I am not forsaking the 
Church. I believe in her mission and have no de- 
sire to destroy. Least of all, in the step I am about 
to take do I desire to be charged with abandoning 
the Christian fellowship. But I feel that I must 
resign my place as pastor of Nazareth Church in 
■order to satisfy myself that I am walking as I 
ought to walk in His steps. In this action I judge 
no other minister and pass no criticism on others’ 
discipleship. But I feel as you do. Into a close 
contact with the sin and shame and degradation of 
this great city I must come personally. And I 
know that to do that I must sever my immediate 
connection with Nazareth Avenue Church. I do 
not see any other way for myself to suffer for His 
sake as I feel that I ought to suffer.” 

Again that sudden silence fell over those two 
men. It was no ordinary action they were decid- 


235 


In ITis Steps. 

ing. They had both reached the same conclusion 
by the same reasoning, and they were too thought- 
ful, too well accustomed to the measuring of con- 
duct, to underestimate the seriousness of their po- 
sition. 

“What is your plan ?” The Bishop at last spoke 
gently, looking with the smile that always beauti- 
fied his face. The Bishop’s face grew in glory now 
every day. 

“My plan,” replied Dr. Bruce slowly, “is, in 
brief, the putting of myself into the centre of the 
greatest human need I can find in this city and liv- 
ing there. My wife is fully in accord with me. 
We have already decided to find a residence in that 
part of the city where we can make our personal 
lives count for the most.” 

“Let me suggest a place.” The Bishop was on 
fire now. His fine face actually glowed with the 
enthusiasm of the movement in which he and his 
friend were inevitably embarked. He went on and 
unfolded a plan of such far-reaching power and 
possibility that Dr. Bruce, capable and experienced 
as he was, felt amazed at the vision of a greater 
soul than his own. 

They sat up late, and were as eager and even glad 
as if they were planning for a trip together to some 
rare land of unexplored travel. Indeed, the Bishop 
said many times afterward that the moment his 
decision was reached to live the life of personal 
sacrifice he had chosen he suddenly felt an uplift- 
ing as if a great burden were taken from him. He 
was exultant. So was Dr. Bruce from the same 
cause. 

Their plan as it finally grew into a working fact 
■was in reality nothing more than the renting of a 
large building formerly used as a warehouse for a 


236 


In His Steps. 

brewery, reconstructing it and living in it them- 
selves in the very heart of a territory where the 
saloon ruled with power, where the tenement was 
its filthiest, where vice and ignorance and shame 
and poverty were congested into hideous forms. It 
was not a new idea. It was an idea started by 
J esus Christ when He left His Father’s House and 
forsook the riches that were His in order to get 
nearer humanity and, by becoming a part of its sin, 
helping to draw humanity apart from its sin. The 
University Settlement idea is not modern. It is 
as old as Bethlehem and Nazareth. And in this 
particular case it was the nearest approach to any- 
thing that would satisfy the hunger of these two 
men to suffer for Christ. 

There had sprung up in them at the same time a 
longing that amounted to a passion, to get nearer 
the great physical poverty and spiritual destitution 
of the mighty city that throbbed around them. 
How could they do this except as they became a 
part of it as nearly as one man can become a part 
of another’s misery? Where was the suffering to 
come in unless there was an actual self-denial of 
some sort? And what was to make that self-de- 
nial apparent to themselves or any one else, unless 
it took this concrete, actual, personal form of try- 
ing to share the deepest suffering and sin of the 
city? 

So they reasoned for themselves, not judging 
others. They were simply keeping their own 
pledge to do as Jesus would do, as they honestly 
judged He would do. That was what they had 
promised. How could they quarrel with the result 
if they were irresistibly compelled to do what they 
w r ere planning to do ? 


237 


In His Steps. 

The Bishop had money of his own. Every one 
in Chicago knew that he had a handsome fortune. 
Dr. Bruce had acquired and saved by literary work 
carried on in connection with his parish duties 
more than a comfortable competence. This money, 
a large part of it, the two friends agreed to put at 
once into the work, most of it into the furnishing 
of the Settlement House. 


238 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

Meanwhile, Nazareth Avenue Church was ex- 
periencing something never known before in all its 
history. The simple appeal on the part of its pas- 
tor to his members to do as Jesus would do had 
created a sensation that still continued. The re- 
sult of that appeal was very much the same as in 
Henry Maxwell’s church in Raymond, only this 
church was far more aristocratic, wealthy and con- 
ventional. Nevertheless when, one Sunday morn- 
ing in early summer, Dr. Bruce came into his pul- 
pit and announced his resignation, the sensation 
deepened all over the city, although he had advised 
with his board of trustees, and the movement he 
intended was not a matter of surprise to them. 
But when it became publicly known that the 
Bishop had also announced his resignation and 
retirement from the position he had held so long, 
in order to go and live himself in the centre of the 
worst part of Chicago, the public astonishment 
reached its height. 

“But why?” the Bishop replied to one valued 
friend who had almost with tears tried to dissuade 
him from his purpose. “Why should what Dr. 
Bruce and I propose to do seem so remarkable a 
thing, as if it were unheard of that a Doctor of 
Divinity and a Bishop should want to save lost 
souls in this particular manner? If we were to 
resign our charge for the purpose of going to Bom- 
bay or Hong Kong or any place in Africa, the 
churches and the people would exclaim at the hero- 


£39 


In His Steps* 

ism of missions. Why should it seem so great a 
thing if we have been led to give our lives to help 
rescue the heathen and the lost of our own city in 
the way we are going to try it ? Is it then such a 
tremendous event that two Christian ministers 
should be not only willing but eager to live close 
to the misery of the world in order to know it and 
realize it ? Is it such a rare thing that love of hu- 
manity should find this particular form of ex- 
pression in the rescue of souls ?” 

And however the Bishop may have satisfied him- 
self that there ought to be nothing so remarkable 
about it at all, the public continued to talk and the 
churches to record their astonishment that two such 
men, so prominent in the ministry, should leave 
their comfortable homes, voluntarily resign their 
pleasant social positions and enter upon a life of 
hardship, of self-denial and actual suffering. 
Christian America ! Is it a reproach on the form 
of our discipleship that the exhibition of actual 
suffering for Jesus on the part of those who walk 
in His steps always provokes astonishment as at the 
sight of something very unsual? 

Nazareth Avenue Church parted from its pas- 
tor with regret for the most part, although the re- 
gret was modified with a feeling of relief on the 
part of those who, had refused to take the pledge. 
Dr. Bruce carried with him the respect of mer 
who, entangled in business in such a way that 
obedience to the pledge would have ruined them, 
still held in their deeper, better natures a genuine 
admiration for courage and consistency. They had 
known Dr. Bruce many years as a kindly, conserva- 
tive, safe man, but the thought of him in the light 
of sacrifice of this sort was not familiar to them. 


240 


• In His Steps. 

As fast as they understood it, they gave their pas- 
tor the credit of being absolutely true to his recent 
convictions as to what following Jesus meant. 
Nazareth Avenue Church has never lost the im- 
pulse of that movement started by Dr. Bruce. 
Those who went with him in making the promise 
breathed into the church the very breath of divine 
life, and are continuing that life-giving work at 
this present time. 

It was fall again, and the city faced another hard 
winter. The Bishop one afternoon came out of the 
Settlement and walked around the block, intend- 
ing to go on a visit to one of his new friends in the 
district. He had walked about four blocks when 
he was attracted by a shop that looked different 
from the others. The neighborhood was still quite 
new to him, and every day he discovered some 
strange spot or stumbled upon some unexpected 
humanity. 

The place that attracted his notice was a small 
house Close by a Chinese laundry. There were 
two windows in the front, very clean, and that was 
remarkable to begin w r ith. Then, inside the win- 
dow, was a tempting display of cookery, with 
prices attached to the various articles that made 
him wonder somewhat, for he was familiar by this 
time with many facts in the life of the people once 
unknown to him. As he stood looking at the win- 
dows, the door between them opened and Felicia 
Sterling came out. 

“Felicia !” exclaimed the Bishop. “When did 
you move into my parish without my knowledge ?” 

“How did you find me so soon?” inquired Fe- 
licia. 


241 


In His Steps. 

“Why, don’t you know? These are the only 
clean windows in the block.” 

“I believe they are,” replied Felicia with a laugh 
that did the Bishop good to hear. 

“But why have you dared to come to Chicago 
without telling me, and how have you entered my 
diocese without my knowledge?” asked the Bishop. 
And Felicia looked so like that beautiful, clean, 
educated, refined world he once knew, that he 
might be pardoned for seeing in her something of 
the old Paradise. Although, to speak truth for 
him, he had no desire to go back to it. 

“Well, dear Bishop,” said Felicia, who had al- 
ways called him so, “I knew how overwhelmed you 
were with your work. I did not want to burden 
you with my plans. And besides, I am going to 
offer you my services. Indeed, I was just on my 
way to see you and ask your advice. I am settled 
here for the present with Mrs. Bascom, a sales- 
woman who rents our three rooms, and with one 
of Rachel’s music pupils who is being helped to a 
course in violin by Virginia Page. She is from 
the people,” continued Felicia, using the words 
“from the people” so gravely and unconsciously 
that her hearer smiled, “and I am keeping house 
for her and at the same time beginning an experi- 
ment in pure food for the masses. I am an expert 
and I have a plan I want you to admire and de- 
velop. Will you, dear Bishop?” 

“Indeed I will,” he replied. The sight of Fe- 
licia and her remarkable vitality, enthusiasm and 
evident purpose almost bewildered him. 

“Martha can help at the Settlement with her 
violin and I will help with my messes. You see, 
I thought I would get settled first and work out 


242 


In His Steps. 

something, and then come with some real thing to 
offer. I’m able to earn my own living now.” 

“You are?” the Bishop said a little incredu- 
lously. “How ? Making those things ?” 

“Those things !” said Felicia with a show of in- 
dignation. “I would have you know, sir, that 
Those things’ are the best-cooked, purest food 
products in this whole city.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied hastily, while his 
eyes twinkled. “Still, The proof of the pud- 
ding’ — you know the rest.” 

“Come in and try some !” she exclaimed. “You 
poor Bishop ! You look as if you hadn’t had a good 
meal for a month.” 

She insisted on his entering the little front room 
where Martha, a wide-awake girl with short, curly 
hair, and an unmistakable air of music about her, 
was busy with practice. 

“Go right on, Martha. This is the Bishop. You 
have heard me speak of him so often. Sit down 
there and let me give you a taste of the fleshpots 
of Egypt, for I believe you have been actually fast- 
ing.” 

So they had an improvised lunch, and the Bishop 
who, to tell the truth, had not taken time for weeks 
to enjoy his meals, feasted on the delight of his 
unexpected discovery and was able to express his 
astonishment and gratification at the quality of 
the cookery. 

“I thought you would at least say it is as good 
as the meals you used to get at the Auditorium at 
the big banquets,” said Felicia slyly. 

“As good as ! The Auditorium banquets were 
simply husks compared with this one, Felicia. 
But you must come to the Settlement. I want 


243 


In His Steps. 

you to see what we are doing. And I am simply 
astonished to find you here earning your living this 
way. I begin to see what your plan is. You can 
be of infinite help to us. You don’t really mean 
that you will live here and help these people to 
know the value of good food?” 

“Indeed I do/’ she answered gravely. “That is 
my gospel. Shall I not follow it?” 

“Aye, Aye ! You’re right. Bless God for sense 
like yours! When I left the world,” the Bishop 
smiled at the phrase, “they were talking a good deal 
about the ‘new woman.’ If you are one of them, 
I am a convert right now and here.” 

“Flattery ! Still is there no escape from it, even 
in the slums of Chicago ?” Felicia laughed again. 
And the man’s heart, heavy though it had grown 
during several months of vast sin-bearing, rejoiced 
to hear it! It sounded good. It was good. It 
belonged to God. 

Felicia wanted to visit the Settlement, and went 
back with him. She was amazed at the results of 
what considerable money and a good deal of con- 
secrated brains had done. As they walked through 
the building they talked incessantly. She was the 
incarnation of vital enthusiasm, and he wondered 
at the exhibition of it as it bubbled up and sparkled 
over. 

They went down into the basement and the 
Bishop pushed open a door from behind which 
came the sound of a carpenter’s plane. It was a 
small but well-equipped carpenter’s shop. A young 
man with a paper cap on his head and clad in 
blouse and overalls was whistling and driving the 
plane as he whistled. He looked up as the two en- 
tered, and took off his cap. As he did so, his lit- 


244 


In His Steps. 

tie finger carried a small curling shaving up to his 
hair and it caught there. 

“Miss Sterling, Mr. Stephen Clyde,” said the 
Bishop. “Clyde is one of our helpers here two 
afternoons in the week.” 

Just then the Bishop was called upstairs, and he 
excused himself a moment, leaving Felicia and the 
young carpenter together. 

“We have met before,” said Felicia looking at 
Clyde frankly. 

“Yes, ‘back in the world/ as the Bishop says,” 
replied the young man, and his fingers trembled 
a little as they lay on the board he had been plan- 
ing. 

“Yes.” Felicia hesitated. “I am very glad to 
see you.” 

“Are 3^ou?” The flush of pleasure mounted to 
the young carpenter’s forehead. “You have had 
a great deal of trouble since — since — then,” he 
said, and then he was afraid he had wounded her, 
or called up painful memories. But she had lived 
over all that. 

“Yes, and you also. How is it that you are 
working here?” 

“It is a long story, Miss Sterling. My father 
lost his money and I was obliged to go to work. 
A very good thing for me. The Bishop says I 
ought to be very grateful. I am. I am very 
happy now. I learned the trade, hoping some time 
to be of use. I am night clerk at one of the hotels. 
That Sunday morning when you took the pledge 
at Nazareth Avenue Church, I took it with the 
others.” 

“Did you?” said Felicia slowly. “I am glad.” 

Just then the Bishop came back, and very soon 


In His Steps. 245 

he and Felicia went away leaving the young car- 
penter at his work. Some one noticed that he 
whistled louder than ever as he planed. 

“Felicia,” said the Bishop, “did fou know 
Stephen Clyde before?” 

“Yes, ‘back in the world/ dear Bishop. He was. 
one of my acquaintances in Nazareth Avenue 
Church.” 

“Ah !” said the Bishop. 

“We were very good friends,” added Felicia. 

“But nothing more?” the Bishop ventured to 
ask. 

Felicia’s face glowed for an instant. Then she 
looked her companion in the eyes franklv and an- 
swered : 

“Truly and truly, nothing more.” 

“It would be just the way of the world for those 
two people to come to like each other, though,” 
thought the man to himself, and somehow the 
thought made him grave. It was almost like the 
old pang over Camilla. But it passed, leaving 
him afterwards, when Felicia had gone back, with 
tears in his eyes and a feeling that was almost 
hope that Felicia and Stephen would like each 
other. “After all,” he said, like the sensible, good 
man that he was, “is not romance a part of hu- 
manity ? Love is older than I am, and wiser.” 

The week following the Bishop had an experi- 
ence that belongs to this part of the Settlement 
history. He was coming back to the Settlement 
very, late from some gathering of the striking 
tailors, and was walking along with his hands be- 
hind him, when two men jumped out from behind 
an old fence that shut off an abandoned factory 
from the street, and faced him. One of the men 
16 


246 


In His Steps. 

thrust a pistol into his face, and the other threat- 
ened him with a ragged stake that had evidently 
been torn from the fence. 

“Hold np your hands, and be quick about it !” 
said the man with the pistol. 

The place was solitary and the Bishop had no 
thought of resistance. He did as he was com- 
manded, and the man with the stake began to go 
through his pockets. He was calm. His nerves 
did not quiver. As he stood there with his arms 
uplifted, an ignorant spectator might have thought 
that he was praying for the souls of these two men. 
And he was. And his prayer was singularly an- 
swered that very night. 


In His Steps. 


24 ? 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

“Righteousness shall go before him and shall set us. 
in the way of his steps.” 

The Bishop was not in the habit of carrying 
much money with him, and the man with the stake 
who was searching him uttered an oath at the small 
amount of change he found. As he uttered it, the 
man with the pistol savagely said, “Jerk out his 
watch! We might as well get all we can out of 
the job!” 

The man with the stake was on the point of lay- 
ing hold of the chain when there was a sound of 
footsteps coming towards him. 

“Get behind the fence! We haven't half 
searched him yet! Mind you keep shut now, if you 
don't want — ” 

The man with the pistol made a significant ges- 
ture with it and, with his companion, pulled and 
pushed the Bishop down the alley and through a 
ragged, broken opening in the fence. The three 
stood still there in the shadow until the footsteps 
passed. 

“Now, then, have you got the watch?” asked the 
man with the pistol. 

“No, the chain is caught somewhere!” and the 
other man swore again. 

“Break it then!” 

“No, don't break it,” the Bishop said, and it was 
the first time he had spoken. “The chain is the 
gift of a very dear friend. I should be sorry to 
have it broken.” 


I 


248 In His Steps. 

At the sound of the Bishop’s voice the man with 
the pistol started as if he had been suddenly shot by 
his own weapon. With a quick movement of his 
other hand he turned the Bishop’s head towards 
what little light was shining from the alleyway, 
at the same time taking a step nearer. Then, to 
the amazement of his companion, he said roughly : 

“Leave the watch alone! We’ve got the money. 
'That’s enough !” 

“Enough! Fifty cents! You don’t reckon — ” 

Before the man with the stake could say another 
word he was confronted with the muzzle of the 
pistol turned from the Bishop’s head towards his 
own. 

“Leave that watch he! And put back the 
money too. This is the Bishop we’ve held up — the 
Bishop — do you hear?” 

“And what of it! The President of the United 
States wouldn’t be too good to hold up, if — ” 

“I say, you put the money back, or in five sec- 
onds I’ll blow a hole through }^our head that’ll let 
in more sense than you have to spare now!” said 
the other. 

For a second the man with the stake seemed to 
hesitate at this strange turn in events, as if measur- 
ing his companion’s intention. Then he hastily 
dropped the money back into the rifled pocket. 

“You can take your Lands down, sir.” The 
man lowered his weapon slowly, still keeping an 
eye on the other man, and speaking with rough 
respect. The Bishop slowly brought his arms to 
his side, and looked earnestly at the two men. In 
the dim light it was difficult to distinguish features. 
He was evidently free to go his way now, but he 
stood there making no movement. 


219 


In His Steps. 

“You can go on. You needn’t stay any longer 
on our account.” The man who had acted as 
spokesman turned and sat down on a stone. The 
other man stood viciously digging his stake into the 
ground. 

“That’s just what I am staying for/’ replied the 
Bishop. He sat down on a board that projected 
from the broken fence. 

“You must like our company. It is hard some- 
times for people to tear themselves away from us,” 
and the man standing up laughed coarsely. 

“Shut up!” exclaimed the other. “We’re on the 
road to hell, though, that’s sure enough. We need 
better company than ourselves and the devil.” 

“If you would only allow me to be of any help,” 
the Bishop spoke gently, even lovingly. The man 
on the stone stared at the Bishop through the dark- 
ness. After a moment of silence he spoke slowly 
like one who had finally decided upon a course he 
had at first rejected. 

“Do you remember ever seeing me before ?” 

“No,” said the Bishop. “The light is not very 
good and I have really not had a good look at you.” 

“Do you know me now?” The man suddenly 
took off his hat and getting up from the stone 
walked over to the Bishop until they were near 
enough to touch each other. 

The man’s hair was coal black except one spot 
on the top of his head about as large as the palm 
of the hand, which was white. 

The minute the Bishop saw that, he started. 
The memory of fifteen years ago began to stir in 
him. The man helped him. 

“Don’t you remember one day back in ’81 or ’8£ 
a man came to your house and told a story about his. 


•250 


In His Steps. 

wife and child having been burned to death in a 
tenement fire in New York?” 

“Yes, I begin to remember now.” The other 
man seemed to be interested. He ceased digging 
his stake in the ground and stood still listening. 

“Do you remember how you took me into your 
own house that night and spent all next day trying 
to find me a job? And how when you succeeded in 
getting me a place in a warehouse as foreman, I 
promised to quit drinking because you asked me 
to?” 

“I remember it now. I hope you have kept your 
promise.” 

The man laughed savagely. Then he struck his 
hand against the fence with such, sudden passion 
that he drew blood. 

“Kept it! I was drunk inside of a week! I’ve 
been drinking ever since. But Fve never forgotten 
you nor your prayer. Do you remember the morn- 
ing after I came to your house, after breakfast 
y r ou had prayers and asked me to come in and sit 
with the rest? That got me! But my mother 
used to pray! I can see her now kneeling down 
by my bed when I was a lad. Father came in one 
night and kicked her while she was kneeling there 
by me. But I never forgot that prayer of yours 
that morning. You prayed for me just as mother 
used to, and you didn’t seem to take ’count of the 
fact that I was ragged and tough-looking and more 
than half drunk when I rang your door bell. Oh, 
what a life I’ve lived! The saloon has housed me 
and homed me and made hell on earth for me. 
But that prayer stuck to me all the time. My 
promise not to drink was broken into a thousand 
pieces inside of two Sundays, and I lost the job 


251 


In His Steps. 

yon found for me and landed in a police station 
two days afterwards, but I never forgot you nor 
your prayer. I don’t know what good it has done 
me, but I never forgot it. And I won’t do any 
harm to you nor let any one else. So you’re free, 
to go. That’s why.” 

The Bishop did not stir. Somewhere a church 
clock struck one. The man had put on his hat 
and gone back to his seat on the stone. The: 
Bishop was thinking hard. 

"How long is it since you had work?” he asked,, 
and the man standing up answered for the other. 

“More’n six months since either of us did any- 
thing to tell of; unless you count ‘holding up’ work. 
I call it pretty wearing kind of a job myself, es- 
pecially when we put in a night like this and don’t 
make nothin’.” 

“Suppose I found good jobs for both of you? 
Would you quit this and begin all over?” 

“What’s the use?” the man on the stone spoke* 
sullenly. “I’ve reformed a hundred times. Every 
time I go down deeper. The devil’s begun to fore- 
close on me already. It’s too late.” 

“No!” said the Bishop. And never before the- 
most entranced audience had he felt the desire for 
souls burn up in him so strongly. All the time he 
sat there during the remarkable scene he prayed, 
“0 Lord Jesus, give me the souls of these two for 
Thee! I am hungry for them. Give them to me!” 

“No!” the Bishop repeated. “What does God 
want of you two men? It doesn’t so much matter 
what I want. But He wants just what I do in this 
case. You two men are of infinite value to Him.” 
And then his wonderful memory came to his aid 
in an appeal such as no one on earth among men 


252 In His Steps. 

could make under such circumstances. He had re- 
membered the man’s name in spite of the wonder- 
fully busy years that lay between his coming to 
the "house and the present moment. 

“Burns,” he said, and he yearned over the men 
with an unspeakable longing for them both, “if you 
and your friend here will go home with me to-night 
I will find you both places of honorable employ- 
ment. I will believe in you and trust you. You 
are both comparatively young men. Why should 
God lose you? It is a great thing to win the love 
of the Great Father. It is a small thing that I 
should love you. But if you need to feel again 
that there is love in the world, you will believe 
me when I say, my brothers, that I love you, and 
in the name of Him who was crucified for our sins 
I cannot bear to see you miss the glory of the hu- 
man life. Come, be men ! Make another try for it, 
God helping you. No one but God and you and 
myself need ever know anything of this to-night. 
He has forgiven it the minute you ask Him to. 
You will find that true. Come! We’ll fight it 
out together, you two and I. It’s worth fighting 
for, everlasting life is. It was the sinner that 
Christ came to help. I’ll do what I can for you. 
O God, give me the souls of these two men !” and 
he broke into a prayer to God that was a continua- 
tion of his appeal to the men: His pent-up feeling 
had no other outlet. Before he had prayed many 
moments Burns was sitting with his face buried in 
his hands, sobbing. Where were his mother’s 
prayers now? They were adding to the power of 
the Bishop’s. And the other man, harder, less 
moved, without a previous knowledge of the 
Bishop, leaned back against the fence, stolid at 


253 


In His Steps. 

first. But as the prayer went on, he was moved 
by it. What force of the Holy Spirit swept over 
his dulled, brutal, coarsened life, nothing but the 
eternal records of the recording angel can ever dis- 
close. But the same supernatural Presence that 
smote Paul on the road to Damascus, and poured 
through Plenry MaxwelFs church the morning he 
asked disciples to follow in Jesus’ steps, and had 
again broken irresistibly over the Nazareth Avenue 
congregation, now manifested Himself in this foul 
corner of the mighty city and over the natures of 
these two sinful sunken men, apparently lost to all 
the pleadings of conscience and memory and God. 
The prayer seemed to break open the crust that 
for years had surrounded them an<J shut them off 
from divine communication. And they themselves 
were thoroughly startled by it. 

The Bishop ceased, and at first he himself did 
not realize what had happened. Neither did they. 
Burns still sat with his head bowed between his 
knees. The man leaning against the fence looked 
at the Bishop with a face in which new emotions 
of awe, repentance, astonishment and a broken 
gleam of joy struggled for expression. The Bishop 
rose. 

“Come, my brothers. God is good. You shall 
stay at the Settlement to-night, and I will make 
good my promise as to the work.” 

The two men followed him in silence. When 
they reached the Settlement it was after two 
o’clock. He let them in and led them to a room. 
At the door he paused a moment. His tall, com- 
manding figure stood in the doorway and his pale 
face, worn with his recent experience, was illumin- 
ated with the divine glory. 


254 


In His Steps. 

“God bless you, my brothers !” he said, and leav- 
ing them his benediction he went away. 

In the morning he almost dreaded to face the 
men. But the impression of the night had not 
worn away. True to his promise he secured work 
for them. The janitor at the Settlement needed 
an assistant, owing to the growth of the work 
there. So Burns was given the place. The Bishop 
succeeded in getting his companion a position as 
driver for a firm of warehouse dray manufacturers 
not far from the Settlement. And the Holy Spirit, 
struggling in these two darkened sinful men, began 
His marvelous work of regeneration. 


In His Steps. 


255 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

It was the afternoon of that morning when Burns 
was installed in his new position as assistant janitor 
that he was cleaning off the front steps of the Set- 
tlement, when he paused a moment and stood up to 
look about him. The first thing he noticed was a 
beer sign just across the alley. He could almost 
touch it with his broom from where he stood. 
Over the street immediately opposite were two 
large saloons, and a little farther down were three 
more. 

Suddenly the door of the nearest saloon opened 
and a man came out. At the same time two more 
went in. A strong odor of beer floated up to Burns 
as he stood on the steps. He clutched his broom 
handle tightly and began to sweep again. He had 
one foot on the porch and another on the steps 
just below. He took another step down, still 
sweeping. The sweat stood on his forehead al- 
though the day was frosty and the air chill. The 
saloon door opened again and three or four men 
came out. A child went in with a pail, and came 
out a moment later with a quart of beer. The 
child went by on the sidewalk just below him, and 
the odor of the beer came up to him. He took 
another step down, still sweeping desperately. His 
fingers were purple as he clutched the handle of 
the broom. 

Then suddenly he pulled himself up one step and 
swept over the spot he had just cleaned. He then 
dragged himself by a tremendous effort back to 


256 


In His Steps. 

the floor of the porch and went over into the corner 
of it farthest from the saloon and began to sweep 
there. “0 God!’' he cried, "if the Bishop would 
only come back!” The Bishop had gone out with 
Dr. Bruce somewhere, and there was no one about 
that he knew. 

He swept in the corner for two or three minutes. 
His face was drawn with the agony of his conflict. 
Gradually he edged out again towards the steps 
and began to go down them. He looked towards 
the sidewalk and saw that he had left one step 
unswept. The sight seemed to give him a reason- 
able excuse for going down there to finish his 
sweeping. 

He was on the sidewalk now, sweeping the last 
step, with his face towards the Settlement and his 
hack turned partly on the saloon across the alley. 
He swept the step a dozen times. The sweat rolled 
over his face and dropped down at his feet. By 
degrees he felt that he was drawn over towards that 
end of the step nearest the saloon. He could smell 
the beer and rum now as the fumes rose around 
him. It was like the infernal sulphur of the low- 
est hell, and yet it dragged him as by a giant’s hand 
nearer its source. 

He was down in the middle of the sidewalk now, 
• still sweeping. He cleared the space in front of 
the Settlement and even went out into the gutter 
and swept that. He took off his hat and rubbed 
his sleeve over his face. His lips were pallid and 
his teeth chattered. He trembled all over like a 
palsied man and staggered back and forth as if he 
was already drunk. His soul shook within him. 

He had crossed over the little piece of stone flag- 
ging that measured the width of the alley, and now 


257 


In His Steps. 

he stood in front of the saloon, looking at the 
sign, and staring into the window at the pile of 
whisky and beer bottles arranged in a great pyra- 
mid inside. He moistened his lips with his tongue 
and took a step forward, looking around him 
stealthily. The door suddenly opened again and 
some one came out. Again the hot, penetrating 
smell of the liquor swept out into the cold air, and 
he took another step towards the saloon door which 
had shut behind the customer. As he laid his 
fingers on the door handle, a tall figure came 
around the corner. It was the Bishop. 

He seized Burns by the arm and dragged him 
back upon the sidewalk. The frenzied man, now 
mad for a drink, shrieked out a curse and struck 
at his friend savagely. It is doubtful if he really 
knew at first who was snatching him away from his 
ruin. The blow fell upon the Bishop’s face and 
cut a gash in his cheek. He never uttered a word. 
But over his face a look of majestic sorrow swept. 
He picked Burns up as if he had been a child and 
actually carried him up the steps and into the 
house. He put him down in the hall and then 
shut the door and put his back against it. 

Burns fell on his knees sobbing and praying. 
^ The Bishop stood there panting with his exertion, 
* although Burns was a slightly-built man and had 
not been a great weight for a man of his strength 
to carry. He was moved with unspeakable pity. 

“Pray, Burns — pray as you never prayed before! 
Nothing else will save you!” 

“0 God! Pray with me. Save me! Oh, save 
me from my hell!” cried Burns. And the Bishop 
knelt by him in the hall and prayed as only he 
could pray. 


258 


In His Steps. 

After that they rose and Burns went to his room. 
He came out of it that evening like a humble child. 
And the Bishop went his way older from that ex- 
perience, bearing on his body the marks of the 
Lord Jesus. Truly he was learning something of 
what it means to walk in His steps. 

But the saloon ! It stood there, and all the oth- 
ers lined the street like so many traps set for Burns. 
How long would the man be able to resist the 
smell of the damnable stuff? The Bishop went 
out on the porch. The air of the whole city seemed 
to be impregnated with the odor of beer. “How 
long, 0 Lord, how long?” he prayed. Dr. Bruce 
came out, and the two friends talked about Burns 
and his temptation. 

“Did you ever make any inquiries about the own- 
ership of this property adjoining us?” the Bishop 
asked. 

“No, I haven’t taken time for it. I will now if 
you think it would be worth while. But what can 
we do, Edward, against the saloon in this great 
city? It is as firmly established as the churches 
or politics. What power can ever remove it?” 

“God will do it in time, as He has removed slav- 
ery,” was the grave reply. “Meanwhile I think 
we have a right to know who controls this saloon 
so near the Settlement.” 

“I’ll find out,” said Dr. Bruce. 

Two days later he walked into the business office 
of one of the members of Nazareth Avenue 
Church and asked to see him a few moments. He 
was cordially received by his old parishioner, who 
welcomed him into his room and urged him to take 
nil the time he wanted. 

“I called to see you about that property next the 


259 


In His Steps. 

Settlement where the Bishop and myself now are, 
you know. I am going to speak plainly, because 
life is too short and too serious for us both to have 
any foolish hesitation about this matter. Clayton, 
do you think it is right to rent that property for a 
saloon ?” 

Dr. Bruce’s question was as direct and uncom- 
promising as he had meant it to be. The effect of it 
on his old parishioner was instantaneous. 

The hot blood mounted to the face of the man 
who sat there a picture of business activity in a 
great city. Them he grew pale, dropped his head 
on his hands, and when he raised it again Dr. 
Bruce was amazed to see a tear roll over his face. 

“Doctor, did you k_iow that I took the pledge 
that morning with the others?” 

“Yes, I remember.” 

“But you never knew how I have been tor- 
mented over my failure to keep it in this instance. 
That saloon property has been the temptation of 
the devil to me. It is the best paying investment 
at present that I have. And yet it was only a min- 
ute before you came in here that I was in an agony 
of remorse to think how I was letting a little 
earthly gain tempt me into a denial of the very 
Christ I had promised to follow. I knew well 
enough that He would never rent property for such 
a purpose. There is no need, Dr. Bruce, for you 
to say a word more.” 

* Clayton held out his hand and Dr. Bruce grasped 
it and shook it hard. After a little he went away. 
But it was a long time afterwards that he learned 
all the truth about the struggle that Clayton had 
known. It was only a part of the history that 
belonged to Nazareth Avenue Church since that 


260 


In His Steps. 

memorable morning when the Holy Spirit sanc- 
tioned the Christ-like pledge. Not even the Bishop 
and Dr. Bruce, moving as they now did in the very 
presence itself of divine impulses, knew yet that 
over the whole sinful city the Spirit was brooding 
with mighty eagerness, waiting for the disciples to 
arise to the call of sacrifice and suffering, touch- 
ing hearts long dull and cold, making business 
men and money-makers uneasy in their absorption 
by the one great struggle for more wealth, and stir- 
ring through the church as never in all the city’s 
history the church had been movpd. The Bishop 
and Dr. Bruce had already , seen some wonderful 
things in their brief life at the Settlement. They 
were to see far greater soon, more astonishing rev- 
elations of the divine power than they had sup- 
posed possible in this age of the world: 

Within a month the saloon next the Settlement 
was closed. The saloon-keeper’s lease had expired, 
and Clayton not only closed the property to the 
whisky men, but offered the building to the Bishop 
and Dr. Bruce to use for the Settlement work, 
which had now grown so large that the building 
they had first rented was not sufficient for the dif- 
ferent industries that were planned. 

One of the most important of these was the pure- 
food department suggested by Felicia. It was not 
a month after Clayton turned the saloon property 
over to the Settlement that Felicia found herself 
installed in the very room where souls had been 
lost, as head of the department not only of cooking 
but of a course of housekeeping for girls who 
wished to go out to service. She was now a resi- 
dent of the Settlement, and found a home with 
Mrs. Bruce and the other young women from the 


261 


In His Steps. 

city who were residents. Martha, the violinist, 
remained at the place where the Bishop had first 
discovered the two girls, and came over to the • 
Settlement certain evenings to give lessons in 
music. 

“Felicia, tell us your plan in full now,” said the 
Bishop one evening when, in a rare interval of rest 
from the great pressure of work, he was with Dr. 
Bruce, and Felicia had come in from the other 
building. 

“Well, I have long thought of the hired girl 
problem,” said Felicia with an air of wisdom that 
made Mrs. Bruce smile as she looked at the enthu- 
siastic, vital beauty of this young girl, transformed 
into a new creature by the promise she had made to 
live the Christ-like life. “And I have reached 
certain conclusions in regard to it that you men are 
not yet able to fathom, but Mrs. Bruce will under- 
stand me.” 

“We acknowledge our infancy, Felicia. Go on,” 
said the Bishop humbly. 

“Then this is what I propose to do. The old 
saloon building is large enough to arrange into a 
suite of rooms that will represent an ordinary 
house. My p^n is to have it so arranged, and then 
teach housekeeping and cooking to girls who will 
afterwards go out to service. The course will be six 
months’ long ; in that time I will teach plain cook- 1 
ing, neatness, quickness, and a love of good work.” 

“Hold on, Felicia!” the Bishop interrupted, 
“this is not an age of miracles!” 

“Then we will make it one,” replied Felicia. “I 
know this seems like an impossibility, but I want to 
try it. I know a score of girls already who will 
take the course, and if we can once -establish some- 


17 


262 In His Steps. 

thing like an esprit de corps among the girls them- 
selves, I am sure it will be of great value to them. 
I know already that the pure food is working a 
revolution in many families.” 

“Felicia, if you can accomplish half what you 
propose it will bless this community,” said Mrs. 
Bruce. “I don’t see how you can do it, but I say, 
God bless you, as you try.” 

“So say we all!” cried Dr. Bruce and the Bishop, 
and Felicia plunged into the working out of her 
plan with the enthusiasm of her discipleship which 
every day grew more and more practical and serv- 
iceable. 

It must be said here that Felicia’s plan succeeded 
beyond all expectations. She developed wonderful 
powers of persuasion, and taught her girls with as- 
tonishing rapidity to do all sorts of housework. 
In time, the graduates of Felicia’s cooking school 
came to be prized by housekeepers all over the city. 
But that is anticipating our story. The history 
of the Settlement has never yet been written. 
When it is Felicia’s part will be found of very 
great importance. 

The depth of winter found Chicago presenting, 
as every great city of the world presents to the eyes 
of Christendom, the marked contrast between 
riches and poverty, between culture, refinement, 
luxury, ease, and ignorance, depravity, destitu- 
tion and the bitter struggle for bread. It was a 
hard winter but a gay winter. Never had there 
been such a succession of parties, receptions, balls, 
dinners, banquets, fetes, gayeties. Never had the 
opera and the theatre been so crowded with fash- 
ionable audiences. Never had there been such a 
lavish display of jewels and fine dresses and equi- 


263 


In His Steps. 

pages. And on the other hand, never had the deep 
want and suffering been so cruel, so sharp, so mur- 
derous. Never had the winds blown so chilling 
over the lake and through the thin shells of tene- 
ments in the neighborhood of the Settlement. 
Never had the pressure for food and fuel and 
clothes been so urgently thrust up against the peo- 
ple of the city in their most importunate and 
ghastly form. Night after night the Bishop and 
Dr. Bruce with their helpers went out and helped 
save men and women and children from the tor- 
ture of physical privation. Vast quantities of food 
and clothing and large sums of money were do- 
nated by the churches, the charitable societies, 
the civic authorities and the benevolent associa- 
tions. But the personal touch of the Christian 
disciple was very hard to secure for personal work. 
Where was the discipleship that was obeying the 
Master’s command to go itself to the suffering and 
give itself with its gift in order to make the gift 
of value in time to come? The Bishop found his 
heart sink within him as he faced this fact more 
than any other. Men would give money who 
would not think of giving themselves. And the 
money they gave did not represent any real sacri- 
fice because they did not miss it. They gave what 
was the easiest to give, what hurt them the least. 
Where did the sacrifice come in? Was this follow- 
ing Jesus ? Was this going with Him all the way ? 
He had been to members of his own aristocratic, 
splendidly wealthy congregations, and was appalled 
to find how few men and women of that luxurious 
class in the churches would really suffer any gen- 
uine inconvenience for the sake of suffering hu- 
manity. Is charity the giving of worn-out gar- 


261 


In His Steps. 

ments ? Is it a ten-dollar bill given to a paid visi- 
tor or secretary of some benevolent organization in 
the church? Shall the man never go and give his 
gift himself ? Shall the woman never deny herself 
her reception or her party or her musicale, and go 
and actually touch, herself, the foul, sinful sore of 
diseased humanity as it festers in the great metrop- 
olis? Shall charity be conveniently and easily 
done through some organization? Is it possible to 
organize the affections so that love shall work dis- 
agreeable things by proxy ? 

All this the Bishop asked as he plunged deeper 
into the sin and sorrow of that bitter winter. He 
was bearing his cross with joy. But he burned and 
fought within over the shifting of personal love 
by the many upon the hearts of the few. And 
still, silently, powerfully, resistlessly, the Holy 
Spirit was moving through the churches, even the 
aristocratic, wealthy, ease-loving members who 
shunned the terrors of the social problem as they 
would shun a contagious disease. 

This fact was impressed upon the Settlement 
workers in a startling way one morning. Perhaps 
no incident of that winter shows more plainly how 
much of a momentum had already grown out of 
the movement of Nazareth Avenue Church and the 
action of Dr. Bruce and the Bishop that followed 
the pledge to do as Jesus would do. 


In His Steps. 


265 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

The breakfast hour at the Settlement was the 
one hour in the day when the whole family found a 
little breathing space to fellowship together. It 
was an hour of relaxation. There was a great deal 
of good-natured repartee and much real wit and 
enjoyable fun at this hour. The Bishop told his 
best stories. Dr. Bruce was at his best in anecdote. 
This company of disciples was healthily humorous 
in spite of the atmosphere of sorrow that constantly 
surrounded them. In fact, the Bishop often said 
the faculty of humor was as God-given as any other 
and in his own case it was the only safety valve he 
had for the tremendous pressure put upon him. 

This particular morning he was reading extracts 
from a morning paper for the benefit of the others. 
Suddenly he paused and his face instantly grew 
stern and sad. The rest looked up and a hush fell 
over the table. 

“Shot and killed while taking a lump of coal 
from a car ! His family was freezing and he had 
had no work for six months. Six children and a 
wife all packed into a cabin with three rooms, on 
the West Side. One child wrapped in rags in a 
closet !” 

These were headlines that he read slowly. He 
then went on and read the detailed account of the 
shooting and the visit of the reporter to the tene- 
ment where the family lived. He finished, and 
there was silence around the table. The humor of 
the hour was swept out of existence by this bit of 


266 


In His Steps. 

human tragedy. The great city roared about the 
Settlement. The awful current of human life was 
flowing in a great stream past the Settlement 
House, and those who had work were hurrying to it 
in a vast throng. But thousands were going down 
in the midst of that current, clutching at last 
hopes, dying literally in a land of plenty because 
the boon of physical toil was denied them. 

There were various comments on the part of the 
residents. One of the new-comers, a young man 
preparing for the ministry, said : 

“Why don’t the man apply to one of the charity 
organizations for help? Or to the city? It cer- 
tainly is not true that even at its worst this city full 
of Christian people would knowingly allow any one 
to go without food or fuel.” 

“Ho, I don’t believe it would,” replied Dr. Bruce. 
“But we don’t know the history of this man’s case. 
He may have asked for help so often before that, 
finally, in a moment of desperation he determined 
to help himself. I have known such cases this 
winter.” 

“That is not the terrible fact in this case,” said 
the Bishop. “The awful thing about it is the fact 
that the man had not had any work for six 
months.” 

“Why don’t such people go out into the coun- 
try ?” asked the divinity student. 

Some one at the table who had made a special 
study of the opportunities for work in the country 
answered the question. According to the investi- 
gator the places that were possible for work in the 
country were exceedingly few for steady employ- 
ment, and in almost every case they were offered 
only to men without families. Suppose e man’s 


267 


In His Steps. 

wife or children were ill. How would he move or 
get into the' country? How could he pay even the 
meager sum necessary to move his few goods? 
There were a thousand reasons probably why this 
particular man did not go elsewhere. 

“Meanwhile there are the wife and children,” 
said Mrs. Bruce. “How awful ! Where is the 
place, did you say ?” 

“Why, it is only three blocks from here. This 
is the ‘Penrose district/ I believe Penrose him- 
self owns half of the houses in that block. They 
are among the worst houses in this part of the city. 
And Penrose is a church member.” 

“Yes, he belongs to the Nazareth Avenue 
Church,” replied Dr. Bruce in a low voice. 

The Bishop rose from the table the very figure of 
divine wrath. He had opened his lips to say what 
seldom came from him in the way of denunciation, 
when the bell rang and one of the residents went to 
the door. 

“Tell Dr. Bruce and the Bishop I want to see 
them. Penrose is the name — Clarence Penrose. 
Dr. Bruce knows me.” 

The family at the breakfast table heard every 
word. The Bishop exchanged a significant look 
with Dr. Bruce and the two men instantly left the 
table and went out into the hall. 

“Come in here, Penrose,” said Dr. Bruce, and 
they ushered the visitor into the reception room, 
closed the door and were alone. 

Clarence Penrose was one of the most elegant 
looking men in Chicago. He came from an aristo- 
cratic family of great wealth and social distinction. 
He was exceedingly wealthy and had large property 
holdings in different parts of the city. He had 


268 


In His Steps. 

been a member of Dr. Bruce’s church many years. 
He faced the two ministers with a look of agita- 
tion on his face that showed plainly the mark of 
some unusual experience. He was very pale and 
his lips trembled as he spoke. When had Clarence 
Penrose ever before yielded to such a strange emo- 
tion? 

"This affair of the shooting ! You understand ? 
You have read it ? The family lived in one of my 
houses. It is a terrible event. But that is not the 
primary cause of my visit.” He stammered and 
looked anxiously into the faces of the two men. 
The Bishop still looked stern. He could not help 
feeling that this elegant man of leisure could have 
done a great deal to alleviate the horrors in his 
tenements, possibly have prevented this tragedy if 
he had sacrificed some of his personal ease and lux- 
ury to better the condition of the people in his dis- 
trict. 

Penrose turned toward Dr. Bruce. "Doctor !” 
he exclaimed, and there was almost a child’s terror 
in his voice. “ I came to say that I have had 
an experience so unusual that nothing but the 
supernatural can explain it. You remember I was 
one of those who took the pledge to do as Jesus 
would do. I thought at the time, poor fool that I 
was, that I had all along been doing the Christian 
thing. I gave liberally out of my abundance to 
the church and charity. I never gave myself to 
cost me any suffering. I have been living in a per- 
fect hell of contradictions ever since I took that 
pledge. My little girl, Diana you remember, also 
took the pledge with me. She has been asking me 
a great many questions lately about the poor people 
and where they live. I was obliged to answer her. 
One of her questions last night touched my sore ! 


In His Steps. 2*39 

‘Do you own any houses where these poor people 
live? Are they nice and warm like ours?’ You 
know how a child will ask questions like these. I 
went to bed tormented with what I now know to 
be the divine arrows of conscience. I could not 
sleep. I seemed to see the judgment day. I was 
placed before the Judge. I was asked to give an 
account of my deeds done in the body. ‘How 
, many sinful souls had I visited in prison ? What 
had I done with my stewardship? How about 
those tenements where people froze in winter and 
stifled in summer? Did I give any thought to 
them except to receive the rentals from them? 
Where did my suffering come in? Would Jesus 
have done as I had done and was doing? Had I 
broken my pledge? How had I used the money 
and the culture and the social influence I pos- 
sessed? Had I used it to bless humanity, to re- 
lieve the suffering, to bring joy to the distressed 
and hope to the desponding? I had received 
much. How much had I given ? 

All this came to me in a waking vision as dis- 
tinctly as I see you two men and myself now. I 
was unable to see the end of the vision. I had a 
confused picture in my mind of the suffering 
Christ pointing a condemning finger at me, and 
the rest was shut out by mist and darkness. I have 
not slept for twenty-four hours. The first thing I 
saw this morning was the account of the shooting 
at the coal yards. I read the account with a feel- 
ing of horror I have not been able to shake off. I 
am a guilty creature before God.” 

Penrose paused suddenly. The two men looked 
at him solemnly. What power of the Holy Spirit 
moved the soul of this hitherto self-satisfied, ele- 


270 In His Steps. 

gant, cultured man who belonged to the social life 
that was accustomed to go its way placidly, un- 
mindful of the great sorrows of a great city and 
practically ignorant of what it means to suffer for 
Jesus’ sake? Into that room came a breath such 
as before swept over Henry Maxwell’s church and 
through Nazareth avenue. The Bishop laid his 
hand on the shoulder of Penrose and said: “My 
brother, God has been very near to you. Let us 
thank Him.” 

“Yes ! yes !” sobbed Penrose. He sat down on a 
chair and covered his face. The Bishop prayed. 
Then Penrose quietly said: “Will you go with me 
to that house ?” 

For answer the two men put on their overcoats 
and went with him to the home of the dead man’s 
family. 

That was the beginning of a new and strange life 
for Clarence Penrose. From the moment he 
stepped into that wretched hovel of a home and 
faced for the first time in his life a despair and 
suffering such as he had read of but did not know 
by personal contact, he dated a new life. It would 
be another long story to tell how, in obedience to 
his pledge he began to do with his tenement prop- 
erty as he knew Jesus would do. What would 
J esus do with tenement property if He owned it in 
Chicago or any other great city of the world ? Any 
man who can imagine any true answers to this 
question can easily tell what Clarence Penrose 
began to do. 

Now before that winter reached its bitter climax 
many things occurred in the city which concerned 
the lives of all the characters in this history of the 
disciples who promised to walk in His steps. 


In His Steps. 271 

It chanced by one of those coincidences that 
seem to occur preternaturally that one afternoon 
just as Felicia came out of the Settlement with a 
basket of food which she was going to leave as a 
sample with a baker in the Penrose district, 
Stephen Clyde opened the door of the carpenter 
shop in the basement and came out in time to meet 
her as she reached the sidewalk. 

“Let me carry your basket, please,” he said. 

“Why do you say ‘please ?’ ” asked Felicia, hand- 
ing over the basket while they walked along. 

“I would like to say something else,” replied 
Stephen, glancing at her shyly and yet with a bold- 
ness that frightened him, for he had been loving 
Felicia more every day since he first saw her and 
especially since she stepped into the shop that day 
with the Bishop, and for weeks now they had been 
in many ways thrown in each other’s company. 

“What else?” asked Felicia, innocently falling 
into the trap. 

“Why — ” said Stephen, turning his fair, noble 
face full toward her and eyeing her with the look 
of one who would have the best of all things in the 
universe, “I would like to say : ‘Let me carry your 
basket, dear Felicia/ ” 

Felicia never looked so beautiful in her life. She 
walked on a little way without even turning her 
face toward him. It was no secret with her own 
heart that she had given it to Stephen some time 
ago. Finally she turned and said shyly, while her 
face grew rosy and her eyes tender : 

“Why don’t you say it, then ?” 

“May I ?” cried Stephen, and he was so careless 
for a minute of the way he held the basket, that 
Felicia exclaimed : 


272 - 


In His Steps. 

“Yes ! But, oh, don’t drop my goodies !” 

“Why, I wouldn’t drop anything so precious for 
all the world, dear Felicia,” said Stephen, who now 
walked on air for several blocks, and what was said 
during that walk is private correspondence that we 
have no right to read. Only it is a matter of his- 
tory that day that the basket never reached its 
destination, and that over in the other direction, 
late in the afternoon, the Bishop, walking along 
quietly from the Penrose district, in rather a se- 
cluded spot near the outlying part of the Settle- 
ment district, heard a familiar voice say : 

“But tell me, Felicia, when did you begin to love 
me ?” 

“I fell in love with a little pine shaving just 
above your ear that day when I saw you in the 
shop !” said the other voice with a laugh so clear, so 
pure, so sweet that it did one good to hear it. 

The next minute the Bishop turned the corner 
and came upon them. 

“Where are you going with that basket?” he 
tried to say sternly. 

“We are taking it to — where are we taking it, 
Felicia?” 

“Dear Bishop, we are taking it home to begin — ” 

“To begin housekeeping with,” finished Stephen, 
coming to the rescue. 

“Are you?” said the Bishop. “I hope you will 
invite me to share. I know what Felicia’s cook- 
ing is.” 

“Bishop, dear Bishop !” said Felicia, and she did 
not pretend to hide her happiness; “indeed, you 
shall always be the most honored guest. Are you 
glad?” 

“Yes, I am,” he replied, interpreting Felicia’s 


In His Steps. 273 

words as she wished. Then he paused a moment 
and said gently : “God bless you both !” and went 
his way with a tear in his eye and a prayer in his 
heart, and left them to their joy. 

Yes. Shall not the same divine power of love 
that belongs to earth be lived and sung by the dis- 
ciples of the Man of Sorrows and the Burden- 
bearer of sins? Yea, verily! And this man and 
woman shall walk hand in hand through this great 
desert of human woe in this city, strengthening 
each other, growing more loving with the experi- 
ence of the world’s sorrows, walking in His steps 
even closer yet because of their love for each other, 
bringing added blessing to thousands of wretched 
creatures because they are to have a home of their 
own to share with the homeless. “For this cause,” 
said our Lord J esus Christ, “shall a man leave his 
father and mother and cleave unto his wife.” And 
Felicia and Stephen, following the Master, love 
him with a deeper, truer service and devotion be- 
cause of the earthly affection which Heaven itself 
sanctions with its solemn blessing. 

But it was a little after the love story of the Set- 
tlement became a part of its glory that Henry Max- 
well of Raymond came to Chicago with Rachel 
Winslow and Virginia Page and Rollin and Alex- 
ander Powers and President Marsh, and the occa- 
sion was a remarkable gathering at the hall of the~ 
Settlement arranged by the Bishop and Dr. Bruce, 
who had finally persuaded Mr. Maxwell and his 
fellow disciples in Raymond to come on to be pres- 
ent at this meeting. 

There were invited into the Settlement Hall, 
meeting for that night men out of work, wretched 
creatures who had lost faith in God and man, 


274 


In His Steps. 

anarchists and infidels, free-thinkers and no-think- 
ers. The representation of all the city’s worst, most 
hopeless, most dangerous, depraved elements faced 
Henry Maxwell and the other disciples when the 
meeting began. And still the Holy Spirit moved 
over the great, selfish, pleasure-loving, sin-stained 
city, and it lay in God’s hand, not knowing all that 
awaited it. Every man and woman at the meeting 
that night had seen the Settlement motto over the 
door blazing through the transparency set up by the 
divinity student : “What would J esus do ?” 

And Henry Maxwell, as for the first time he 
stepped under the doorway, was touched with a 
deeper emotion than he had felt in a long time as 
he thought of the first time that question had come 
to him in the piteous appeal of the shabby young 
man who had appeared in the First Church of Ray- 
mond at the morning service. 

Was his great desire for fellowship going to be 
granted? Would the movement begun in Ray- 
mond actually spread over the country? He had 
come to Chicago with his friends partly to see if 
the answer to that question would be found in the 
heart of the great city life. In a few minutes he 
would face the people. He had grown very strong 
and calm since he first spoke with trembling to 
that company of workingmen in the railroad shops, 
but now as then he breathed a deeper prayer for 
help. Then he went in, and with the rest of the 
disciples he experienced one of the great and im- 
portant events of the earthly life. Somehow he 
felt as if this meeting would indicate something of 
an answer to his constant query: “What would 
Jesus do?” And to-night as he looked into the 
faces of men and women who had for years been 


275 


In His Steps. 

strangers and enemies to the Church, his heart 
cried out : “0, my Master, teach the Church, Thy 
Church, how to follow Thy steps better !” Is that 
prayer of Henry Maxwell’s to be answered? Will 
the Church in the city respond to the call to follow 
Him? Will it choose to walk in his steps of pain 
and suffering ? And still, over all the city broods 
the Spirit. Grieve Him not, 0 city ! For He was 
never more ready to revolutionize this world than 
now ! 


276 


In His Steps. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

“Now, -when Jesus heard these things, he said unto 
him, Yet lackest thou one thing: sell all that thou 
hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt 
have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me.” 

When Henry Maxwell began to speak to the 
souls crowded into the Settlement Hall that night 
it is doubtful if he had ever faced such an audience 
in his life. It is quite certain that the city of 
Raymond did contain such a variely of humanity. 
Hot even the Rectangle at its worst could furnish 
so many men and women who had fallen entirely 
out of the reach of the church and of all religious 
and even Christian influences. 

What did he talk about? He had already de- 
cided that point. He told in the simplest language 
he could command some of the results of obedi- 
ence to the pledge as it had been taken in Ray- 
mond. Every man and woman in that audience 
knew something about Jesus Christ. They all had 
some idea of His character, and however much they 
had grown bitter towards the forms of Christian 
ecclesiasticism or the social system, they preserved 
some standard of right and truth, and what little 
some of them still retained was taken from the 
person of the Peasant of Galilee. 

So they were interested in what Maxwell said. 
“What would Jesus do?” He began to apply the 
question to the social problem in general, after 
finishing the story of Raymond. The audience 
was respectfully attentive. It was more than 


277 


In His Steps. 

that. It was genuinely interested. As Mr. Max- 
well went on, faces all over the hall leaned forward 
in a way seldom seen in church audiences or any- 
where except among workingmen or the people of 
the street when once they are thoroughly aroused. 
“What would Jesus do?” Suppose that were the 
motto not only of the churches but of the business 
men, the politicians, the newspapers, the working- 
men, the society people — how long would it take 
under such a standard of conduct to revolutionize 
the world ? What was the trouble with the world ? 
It was suffering from selfishness. Ho one ever 
lived who had succeeded in overcoming selfishness 
like Jesus. If men followed Him regardless of re- 
sults the world would at once begin to enjoy a new 
life. 

Maxwell never knew how much it meant to hold 
the respectful attention of that hall full of diseased 
and sinful humanity. The Bishop and Hr. Bruce, 
sitting there, looking on, seeing many faces that 
represented scorn of creeds, hatred of the social 
order, desperate narrowness and selfishness, mar- 
veled that even so soon under the influence of the 
Settlement life, the softening process had begun 
already to lessen the bitterness of hearts, many of 
which had grown bitter from neglect and indiffer- 
ence. 

And still, in spite of the outward show of respect 
to the speaker, no one, not even the Bishop, had 
any true conception of the feeling pent up in that 
room that night. Among those who had heard of 
the meeting and had responded to the invitation 
were twenty or thirty men out of work who had 
strolled past the Settlement that afternoon, read 
the notice of the meeting, and had come in out of 
18 


278 


In His Steps. 

curiosity and to escape the- chill east wind. It was 
a bitter night and the saloons were full. But in 
that whole district of over thirty thousand souls, 
with the exception of the saloons, there was not a 
door open except the clean, pure Christian door of 
the Settlement. Where would a man without a 
home or without work or without friends naturally 
go unless to the saloon ? 

It had been the custom at the Settlement for a 
free discussion to follow any open meeting of this 
kind, and when Mr. Maxwell finished and sat 
down, the Bishop, who presided that night, rose 
and made the announcement that any man in the 
hall was at liberty to ask questions, to speak out 
his feelings or declare his convictions, always with 
the understanding that whoever took part was to 
observe the simple rules that governed parliament- 
ary bodies and obey the three-minute rule which, 
by common consent, would be enforced on account 
of the numbers present. 

Instantly a number of voices from men who had 
been at previous meetings of this kind exclaimed, 
“Consent! consent!” 

The Bishop sat down, and immediately a man 
near the middle of the hall rose and began to speak. 

“I want to say that what Mr. Maxwell has said 
to-night comes pretty close to me. I knew Jack 
Manning, the fellow he told about who died at his 
house. I worked on the next case to his in a 
printer’s shop in Philadelphia for two years. Jack 
was a good fellow. He loaned me five dollars once 
when I was in a hole and I never got a chance to 
pay him back. He moved to Hew York, owing to 
a change in the management of the office that 
threw him out, and I never saw him again. When 


279 


In His Steps. 

the linotype machines came in I was one of the men 
to go out, just as he did. I have been out most of 
the time since. They say inventions are a good 
thing. I don’t always see it myself; but I sup- 
pose I’m prejudiced. A man naturally is when 
he loses a steady job because a machine takes his 
place. About this Christianity he tells about, it’s 
all right. But I never expect to see any such sac- 
rifices on the part of the church people. So far as 
my observation goes they’re just as selfish and as 
greedy for money and worldly success as anybody. 
I except the Bishop and Dr. Bruce and a few oth- 
ers. But I never found much difference between 
men of the world, as they are called, and church 
members when it came to business and money mak- 
ing. One class is just as bad as another there.” 

Cries of “That’s so!” “You’re right!” “Of 
course !” interrupted the speaker, and the minute 
he sat down two men who were on the floor for sev- 
eral seconds before the first speaker was through 
began to talk at once. 

The Bishop called them to order and indicated 
which was entitled to the floor. The man who re- 
mained standing began eagerly : 

“This is the first time I was ever in here, and 
may be it’ll be the last. Fact is, I am about at the 
end of my string. I’ve tramped this city for work 
till I’m sick. I’m in plenty of company. Say! 
I’d like to ask a question of the minister, if it’s 
fair. May I ?” 

“That’s for Mr. Maxwell to say,” said the 
Bishop. 

“By all means,” replied Mr. Maxwell quickly. 
“Of course, I will not promise to answer it to the 
gentleman’s satisfaction.” 


280 


In His Steps. 

“This is my question.” The man leaned for- 
ward and stretched out a long arm with a certain 
dramatic force that grew naturally enough out of 
his condition as a human being. “I want to know 
what Jesus would do in my case. I haven’t had a 
stroke of work for two months. I’ve got a wife 
and three children, and I love them as much as if 
I was worth a million dollars. I’ve been living 
off a little earnings I saved up during the World’s 
Fair jobs I got. I’m a carpenter by trade, and I’ve 
tried every way I know to get a job. You say we 
ought to take for our motto, ‘What would Jesus 
do ?’ What would He do if He was out of work like 
me? I can’t be somebody else and ask the ques- 
tion. I want to work. I’d give anything to grow 
tired of working ten hours a day the way I used 
to. Am I to blame because I can’t manufacture a 
job for myself? I’ve got to live, and my wife and 
my children have got to live. But how? What 
would Jesus do? You say that’s the question we 
ought to ask.” 

Mr. Maxwell sat there staring at the great sea 
of faces all intent on his, and no answer to this 
man’s question seemed for the time being to be 
possible. “0 God !” his heart prayed ; “this is a 
question that brings up the entire social problem 
in all its perplexing entanglement of human 
wrongs and its present condition contrary to every 
desire of God for a human being’s welfare. Is 
there any condition more awful than for a man 
in good health, able and eager to work, with no 
means of honest livelihood unless he does work, ac- 
tually unable to get anything to do, and driven to 
one of three things: begging or charity at the 
hands of friends or strangers, suicide or starva- 


281 


In His Steps. 

tion ? . ‘What would J esus do ?’ ” It was a fair 
question for the man to ask. It was the only 
question he could ask, supposing him to be a dis- 
ciple of Jesus. But what a question for any man 
to be obliged to answer under such conditions ? 

All this and more did Henry Maxwell ponder. 
All the others were thinking in the same way. The 
Bishop sat there with a look sp stern and sad that 
it was not hard to tell how the question moved him. 
Dr. Bruce had his head bowed. The human prob- 
lem had never seemed to him so tragical as since 
he had taken the pledge and left his church to en- 
ter the Settlement. What would Jesus do? It 
was a terrible question. And still the man stood 
there, tall and gaunt and almost terrible, with his 
arm stretched out in an appeal which grew every 
second in meaning. At length Mr. Maxwell spoke. 

“Is there any man in the room, who is a Chris- 
tian disciple, who has been in this condition and 
has tried to do as Jesus would do? If so, such a 
man can answer this question better than I can.” 

There was a moment’s hush over the room and 
then a man near the front of the hall slowly rose. 
He was an old man, and the hand he laid on the 
back of the bench in front of him trembled as he 
spoke. 

“I think I can safely say that I have many times 
been in just such a condition, and I have always 
tried to be a Christian under all conditions. I 
don’t know as I have always asked this question, 
‘What would Jesus do?’ when I have been out of 
work, but I do know I have tried to be His disciple 
at all times. Yes,” the man went on, with a sad 
smile that was more pathetic to the Bishop and 
Mr. Maxwell than the younger man’s grim despair ; 
“yes, I have begged, and I have been to charity in- 


282 


In His Steps. 

stitutions, and I have done everything when out of 
a job except steal and lie in order to get food and 
fuel. I don’t know as Jesus would have done some 
of the things I have been obliged to do for a living, 
but I know I have never knowingly done wrong 
when out of work. Sometimes I think maybe He 
would have starved sooner than beg. I don’t 
know.” 

The old man’s voice trembled and he looked 
around the room timidly. A silence followed, 
broken by a fierce voice from a large, black-haired, 
heavily-bearded man who sat three seats from the 
Bishop. The minute he spoke nearly every man in 
the hall leaned forward eagerly. The man who had 
asked the question, “What would Jesus do in my 
case?” slowly sat down and whispered to the man 
next to him : “Who’s that ?” 

“That’s Carlsen, the Socialist leader. Now you’ll 
hear something.” 

“This is all bosh, to my mind,” began Carlsen, 
while his great bristling beard shook with the deep 
inward anger of the man. “The whole of our sys- 
tem is at fault. What we call civilization is rotten 
to the core. There is no use trying to hide it or 
cover it up. We live in an age of trusts and com- 
bines and capitalistic greed that means simply 
death to thousands of innocent men, women and 
children. I thank God, if there is a God — which 
I very much doubt — that I, for one, have never 
dared to marry and try to make a home. Home ! 
Talk of hell ! Is there any bigger one than this man 
and his three children has on his hands right this 
minute? And he’s only one out of thousands. 
And yet this city, and every other big city in this 
country, has its thousands of professed Christians 


283 


In His Steps. 

who have all the luxuries and comforts, and who go 
to church Sundays and sing their hymns about giv- 
ing all to Jesus and bearing the cross and follow- 
ing Him all the way and being saved ! I don’t say 
that there aren’t good men and women among 
them, but let the minister who has spoken to us 
here to-night go into any one of a dozen aristocratic 
churches I could name and propose to the members 
to take any such pledge as the one he’s mentioned 
here to-night, and see how quick the people would 
laugh at him for a fool or a crank or a fanatic. 
Oh, no ! That’s not the remedy. That can’t ever 
amount to anything. We’ve got to have a new 
start in the way of government. The whole thing 
needs reconstructing. I don’t look for any reform 
worth anything to come out of the churches. They 
are not with the people. They are with the aris- 
tocrats, with the men of money. The trusts and 
monopolies have their greatest men in the churches. 
The ministers as a class are their slaves. What 
we need is a system that shall start from the com- 
mon basis of socialism, founded on the rights of 
the common people — ” 

Carlsen had evidently forgotten all about the 
three-minutes rule and was launching himself into 
a regular oration that meant, in his usual sur- 
roundings before his usual audience, an hour at 
least, when the man just behind him pulled him 
down unceremoniously and arose. Carlsen was an- 
gry at first and threatened a little disturbance, but 
the Bishop reminded him of the rule, and he sub- 
sided with several mutterings in his beard, while 
the next speaker began with a very strong eulogy 
on the value of the single tax as a genuine remedy 
for all the social ills. He was followed by a man 


284 - 


In His Steps. 

who made a bitter attack on the churches and min- 
isters, and declared that the two great obstacles in 
the way of all true reform were the courts and the 
ecclesiastical machines. 

When he sat down a man who bore every mark 
of being a street laborer sprang to his feet and 
poured a perfect torrent of abuse against the corpo- 
rations, especially the railroads. The minute his 
time was up a big, brawny fellow, who said he was 
a metal worker by trade, claimed the floor and de- 
clared that the remedy for the social wrongs was 
Trades Unionism. This, he said, would bring on 
the millennium for labor more surely than any- 
thing else. The next man endeavored to give some 
reasons why so many persons were out of employ- 
ment, and condemned inventions as works of the 
devil. He was loudly applauded by the rest. 

Finally the Bishop called time on the “free for 
all,” and asked Rachel to sing. 

Rachel Winslow had grown into a very strong, 
healthful, humble Christian during that wonder- 
ful year in Raymond dating from the Sunday when 
she first took the pledge to do as Jesus would do, 
and her great talent for song had been fully con- 
secrated to the service of her Master. When she 
began to sing to-night at this Settlement meeting, 
she had never prayed more deeply for results to 
come from her voice, the voice which she now re- 
garded as the Master’s, to be used for Him. 

Certainly her prayer was being answered as she 
sang. She had chosen the words, 

“Hark! The voice of Jesus calling, 

Follow me, follow me!” 

Again Henry Maxwell, sitting there, was re- 


285 


In His Steps. 

minded of his first night at the Rectangle in the 
tent when Rachel sang the people into quiet. The 
effect was the same here. What wonderful power 
a good voice consecrated to the Master’s service al- 
ways is ! Rachel’s great natural ability would have 
made her one of the foremost opera singers of the 
age. Surely this audience had never heard such a 
melody. How could it ? The men who had drifted 
, in from the street sat entranced by a voice which 
“back in the world,” as the Bishop said, never could 
be heard by the common people because the owner 
of it would charge two or three dollars for the priv- 
ilege. The song poured out through the hall as 
free and glad as if it were a foretaste of salvation 
itself. Carlsen, with his great, black-bearded face 
uplifted, absorbed the music with the deep love of 
it peculiar to his nationality, and a tear ran over 
his cheek and glistened in his beard as his face 
softened and became almost noble in its aspect. 
The man out of work who had wanted to know what 
Jesus would do in his place sat with one grimy 
hand on the back of the bench in front of him, with 
his mouth partly open, his great tragedy for the 
moment forgotten. The song, while it lasted, was 
food and work and warmth and union with his 
. wife and babies once more. The man who had 
spoken so fiercely against the churches and minis- 
ters sat with his head erect, at first with a look of 
stolid resistance, as if he stubbornly resisted the 
introduction into the exercises of anything that was 
even remotely connected with the church or its 
forms of worship. But gradually he yielded to the 
power that was swaying the hearts of all the per- 
sons in that room, and a look of sad thoughtful- 
ness crept over his face. 


286 


In His Steps. 

The Bishop said that night while Rachel was 
singing that if the world of sinful, diseased, de- 
praved, lost humanity could only have the gospel 
preached to it by consecrated prima donnas and 
professional tenors and altos and bassos, he be- 
lived it would hasten the coming of the Kingdom 
quicker than any other one force. “Why, oh 
why,” he cried in his heart as he listened, “has the 
world’s great treasure of song been so often held 
far from the poor because the personal possessor 
of voice or fingers, capable of stirring divinest 
melody, has so often regarded the gift as something 
with which to make money? Shall there be no 
martyrs among the gifted ones of the earth ? Shall 
there be no giving of this great gift as well as of 
others ?” 

And Henry Maxwell, again as before, called up 
that other audience at the Rectangle with increas- 
ing longing for a larger spread of the new disciple- 
ship. What he had seen and heard at the Settle- 
ment burned into him deeper the belief that the 
problem of the city would be solved if the Chris- 
tians in it should once follow Jesus as He gave com- 
mandment. But what of this great mass of hu- 
manity, neglected and sinful, the very kind of hu- 
manity the Saviour came to save, with all its mis- 
takes and narrowness, its wretchedness and loss 
of hope, above all its unqualified bitterness towards 
the church? That was what smote him deepest. 
Was the church then so far from the Master that 
the people no longer found Him in the church? 
Was it true that the church had lost its power over 
the very kind of humanity which in the early ages 
of Christianity it reached in the greatest numbers ? 
How much was true in what the Socialist leader 


In His Steps. 287 

said about the uselessness of looking to the church 
for reform or redemption, because of the selfishness 
and seclusion and aristocracy of its members ? 

He was more and more impressed with the ap- 
palling fact that the comparatively few men in that 
hall, now being held quiet for a while by Rachel’s 
voice, represented thousands of others just like 
them, to whom a church and a minister stood for 
less than a saloon or a beer garden as a source of 
comfort or happiness. Ought it to be so ? If the 
church members were all doing as Jesus would do 
could it remain true that armies of men would 
walk the streets for jobs and hundreds of them 
curse the church and thousands of them find in 
the saloon their best friend? How far were the 
Christians responsible for this human problem that 
was personally illustrated right in this hall to- 
night? Was it true that the great city churches 
would as a rule refuse to walk in Jesus’ steps so 
closely as to suffer — actually suffer — for His sake ? 

Henry Maxwell kept asking this question even 
after Rachel had finished singing and the meeting 
had come to an end after a social gathering which 
was very informal. He asked it while the little 
company of residents with the Raymond visitors 
were having a devotional service, as the custom in 
the Settlement was. He asked it during a confer- 
ence with the Bishop and Dr. Bruce which lasted 
until one o’clock. He asked it as he knelt again 
before sleeping and poured' out his soul in a peti- 
tion for spiritual baptism on the church in America 
such as it had never known. He asked it the first 
thing in the morning and all through the day as 
he went over the Settlement district and saw the 
life of the people so far removed from the Life 


288 In His Steps. 

abundant. Would the church members, would tKe 
Christians, not only in the churches of Chicago, 
but throughout the country, refuse to walk in His 
steps if, in order to do so, they must actually take 
up a cross and follow Him? This was the one 
question that continually demanded answer. 


In His Steps. 


289 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

He had planned when he came to the city to 
return to Raymond and be in his own pulpit on 
Sunday. But Friday morning he had received at 
the Settlement a call from the pastor of one of the 
largest churches in Chicago, and had been invited 
to fill the pulpit for both morning and evening 
service. 

At first he hesitated, but finally accepted, seeing 
in it the hand of the Spirits guiding power. He 
would test his own question. He would prove the 
truth or falsity of the charge made against the 
church at the Settlement meeting. How far would 
it go in its self-denial for Jesus’ sake? How 
closely would it walk in His steps ? Was the church 
willing to suffer for its Master? 

Saturday night he spent in prayer, nearly the 
whole night. There had never been so great a 
wrestling in his soul, not even during his strongest 
experiences in Raymond. He had in fact entered 
upon another new experience. The definition of 
his own discipleship was receiving an added test at 
this time, and he was being led into a larger truth 
of the Lord. 

Sunday morning the great church was filled to its 
utmost. Henry Maxwell, coming into the pulpit 
from that all-night vigil, felt the pressure of a 
great curiosity on the part of the people. They 
had heard of the Raymond movement, as all the 
churches had, and the recent action of Dr. Bruce 


290 


In His Steps. 

had added to the general interest in the pledge. 
With this curiosity was something deeper, more 
serious. Mr. Maxwell felt that also. And in the 
knowledge that the Spirit’s presence was his living 
strength, he brought his message and gave it to 
that church that day. 

He had never been wdiat would he called a great 
preacher. He had not the force nor the quality 
that makes remarkable preachers. But ever since 
he had promised to do as Jesus would do, he had 
grown in a certain quality of persuasiveness that 
had all the essentials of true eloquence. This 
morning the people felt the complete sincerity and 
humility of a man who had gone deep into the 
heart of a great truth. 

After telling briefly of some results in his own 
church in Raymond since the pledge was taken, he 
went on to ask the question he had been asking 
since the Settlement meeting. He had taken for 
his theme the story of the young man who came 
to Jesus asking what he must do to obtain eternal 
life. Jesus had tested him. “Sell all that thou 
hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have 
treasure in heaven; and come follow me.” But the 
young man was not willing to suffer to that extent. 
If following Jesus meant suffering in that way, he 
was not willing. He would like to follow Jesus, 
but not if he had to give so much. 

“Is it true,” continued Henry Maxwell, and his 
fine, thoughtful face glowed with a passion of ap- 
peal that stirred the people as they had seldom 
been stirred, “is it true that the church of to-day, 
the church that is called after Christ’s own name, 
would refuse to follow Him at the expense of suffer- 
ing, of physical loss, of temporary gain? The 


291 


In His Steps. 

statement was made at a large gathering in the Set- 
tlement last week by a leader of workingmen that 
it was hopeless to look to the church for any reform 
or redemption of society. On what was that state- 
ment based? Plainly on the assumption that the 
church contains for the most part men and women 
who think more of their own ease and luxury than 
of the sufferings and needs and sins of humanity. 
How far is that true? Are the Christians of Amer- 
ica ready to have their discipleship tested? How 
about the men who possess large wealth? Are they 
ready to take that wealth and use it as Jesus would? 
How about the men and women of great talent? 
Are they ready to consecrate that talent to hu- 
manity as Jesus undoubtedly would do? 

“Is it not true that the call has come in this age 
for a new exhibition of Christian discipleship? 
You who live in this great sinful city must know 
that better than I do. Is it possible you can go 
your ways careless or thoughtless of the awful con- 
dition of men and women and children who are 
dying, body and soul, for need of Christian help? 
Is it not a matter of concern to you personally that 
the saloon kills its thousands more surely than 
war? Is it not a matter of personal suffering in 
some form for you that thousands of able-bodied, 
willing men tramp the streets of this city and all 
cities, crying for work and drifting into crime and 
suicide because they cannot find it? Can you say 
that this is none of your business? Let each man 
look after himself? Would it not be true, think 
you, that if every Christian in America did as 
Jesus would do, society itself, the business world, 
yes, the very political system under which our 
commercial and governmental activity is carried on, 


292 


In His Steps. 

would be so changed that human suffering would 
be reduced to a minimum? 

“What would be the result if all the church mem- 
bers of this city tried to do as J esus would do ? It 
is not possible to say in detail what the effect would 
be. But it is easy to say, and it is true, that in- 
stantly the human problem would begin to find an 
adequate answer. 

“What is the test of Christian discipleship ? 
Is it not the same as in Christ’s own time ? Have 
our surroundings modified or changed the test ? If 
Jesus were here to-day would He not call some of 
the members of this very church to do just what He 
commanded the young man, and ask them to give 
up their wealth and literally follow Him? I be- 
lieve He would do that if He felt certain that any 
church member thought more of his possessions 
than of his Saviour. The test would be the same 
to-day as then. I believe Jesus would demand — 
He does demand now — as close a following, as much 
suffering, as great self-denial as when. He lived in 
person on the earth and said, ‘Except a man re- 
nounce all that he hath he cannot be my disciple.’ 
That is, unless he is willing to do it for my sake, he 
cannot be my disciple. 

“What would be the result if in this city every 
church member should begin to do as Jesus would 
do? It is not easy to go into details of the result. 
But we all know that certain things would be im- 
possible that are now practised by church members. 
What would Jesus do in the matter of wealth? 
How would He spend it? What principle would 
regulate His use of money? Would He be likely to 
live in great luxury and spend ten times as much 
on personal adornment and entertainment as He 


293 


In His Steps. 

spent to relieve the needs of suffering humanity? 
How would Jesus be governed in the making of 
money? Would He take rentals from saloons and 
other disreputable property, or even from tenement 
property that was so constructed that the inmates 
had no such things as a home and no such possi- 
bility as privacy or cleanliness ? 

“What would Jesus do about the great army of 
unemployed and desperate who tramp the streets 
and curse the church, or are indifferent to it, lost 
in the bitter struggle for the bread that tastes bit- 
ter when it is earned on account of the desperate 
conflict to get it? Would Jesus care nothing for 
them? Would He go His way in comparative ease 
and comfort? Would He say that it was none of 
His business ? Would He excuse Himself from all 
responsibility to remove the causes of such a con- 
dition ? 

“What would J esus do in the center of a civiliza- 
tion that hurries so fast after money that the very 
girls employed in great business houses are not 
paid enough to keep soul and body together without 
fearful temptations so great that scores of them fall 
and are swept over the great boiling abyss ; where 
the demands of trade sacrifice hundreds of lads in a 
business that ignores all Christian duties towards 
them in the wav of education and moral training 
and personal affection? Would Jesus, if He were 
here to-day as a part of our age and commercial 
industry, feel nothing, do nothing, say nothing, in 
the face of these facts which every business man 
knows ? 

“What would Jesus do? Is not that what the 
disciple ought to do? Is he not commanded to 
follow in His steps ? How much is the Christianity 
19 


294 


In His Steps. 

of the age suffering for Him ? Is it denying itself 
at the cost of ease, comfort, luxury, elegance of 
living? What does the age need more than per- 
sonal sacrifice? Does the church do its duty in 
following Jesus when it gives a little money to 
establish missions or relieve extreme cases of want ? 
Is it any sacrifice for a man who is worth ten 
million dollars simply to give ten thousand dollars 
for some benevolent work ? Is he not giving some- 
thing that cost him practically nothing so far as 
any personal suffering goes? Is it true that the 
Christian disciples to-day in most of our churches 
are living soft, easy, selfish lives, very far from any 
sacrifice that can be called sacrifice ? What would 
J esus do ? 

“It is the personal element that Christian dis- 
cipleship needs to emphasize. ‘The gift without 
the giver is bare/ The Christianity that attempts 
to suffer by proxy is not the Christianity of Christ. 
Each individual Christian business man, citizen, 
needs to follow in His steps along the path of per- 
sonal sacrifice for Him. There is not a different 
path to-day from that of Jesus’ own times. It is 
the same path. The call of this dying century and 
of the new one soon to be, is a call for a new dis- 
cipleship, a new following of Jesus, more like the 
early, simple, apostolic Christianity, when the dis- 
ciples left all and literally followed the Master. 
Nothing but a discipleship of this kind can face 
the destructive selfishness of the age with any hope 
of overcoming it. There is a great quantity of 
nominal Christianity to-day. There is need of 
more of the real kind. We need a revival of the 
Christianity of Christ. We have, unconsciously, 
lazily, selfishly, formally grown into a discipleship 


295 


In His Steps. 

that Jesus himself would not acknowledge. He 
would say to many of us when we cry, ‘Lord, Lord/ 
‘I never knew you V Are we ready to take up the 
cross ? Is it possible for this church to sing with 
exact truth, 

‘Jesus, I my cross have taken, 

All to leave and follow Thee?’ 

If we can sing that truly, then we may claim dis- 
cipleship. But if our definition of being a Chris- 
tian is simply to enjoy the privileges of worship, be 
generous at no expense to ourselves, have a good, 
easy time surrounded by pleasant friends and by 
comfortable things, live respectably and at the 
same time avoid the world’s great stress of sin and 
trouble because it is too much pain to bear it — if 
this is our definition of Christianity, surely we are 
a long way from following the steps of Him who 
trod the way with groans and tears and sobs of 
anguish for a lost humanity ; who sweat, as it were, 
great drops of blood, who cried out on the upreared 
cross, ‘My God, my God, why has thou forsaken 
me ?’ 

“Are we ready to make and live a new disciple- 
ship ? Are we ready to reconsider our definition of 
a Christian? What is it to be a Christian? It is / 
to imitate Jesus. It is to do as He would do. It is J 
to walk in His steps.” 

When Henry Maxwell finished his sermon, he 
paused and looked at the people with a look they 
never forgot and, at the moment, did not under- 
stand. Crowded into that fashionable church that 
day were hundreds of men and women who had for 
years lived the easy, satisfied life of a nominal 
Christianity. A great silence fell over the congre- 


29 6 


In His Steps. 

gation. Through the silence there came to the 
consciousness of all the souls there present a knowl- 
edge, stranger to them now for years, of a Divine 
Power. Every one expected the preacher to call for 
volunteers who would do as Jesus would do. But 
Maxwell had been led by the Spirit to deliver his 
message this time and w r ait for results to come. 

Pie closed the service with a tender prayer that 
kept the Divine Presence lingering very near every 
hearer, and the people slowly rose to go out. Then 
followed a scene that would have been impossible 
if any mere man had been alone in his striving for 
results. 

Men and women in great numbers crowded 
around the platform to see Mr. Maxwell and to 
bring him the promise of their consecration to the 
pledge to do as Jesus would do. It was a voluntary, 
spontaneous movement that broke upon his soul 
w r ith a result he could not measure. But had he 
not been praying for this very thing? It was an 
answer that more than met his desires. 

There followed this movement a prayer service 
that in its impressions repeated the Raymond ex- 
perience. In the evening, to Mr. Maxwell’s joy, the 
Endeavor Society almost to a member came for- 
ward, as so many of the church members had done 
in the morning, and seriously, solemnly, tenderly, 
took the pledge to do as Jesus would do. A deep 
wave of spiritual baptism broke over the meeting 
near its close that was indescribable in its tender, 
joyful, sympathetic results. 

That was a remarkable day in the history of that 
church, but even more so in the history of Henry 
Maxwell. He left the meeting very late. He went 
to his room at the Settlement w T here he w r as still 


In Ilis Steps. 297 

stopping, and after an hour with the Bishop and 
Dr. Bruce, spent in a joyful rehearsal of the won- 
derful events of the day, he sat down to think over 
again by himself all the experience he was having 
as a Christian disciple. 

He had kneeled to pray, as he always did before 
going to sleep, and it was while he was on his knees- 
that he had a waking vision of what might be in the: 
world when once the new discipleship had made its 
way into the conscience and conscientiousness of 
Christendom. He was fully conscious of being- 
awake, but no less certainly did it seem to him that 
he saw certain results with great distinctiveness,, 
partly as realities of the future, partly great long- 
ings that they might be realities. And this is what 
Henry Maxwell saw in this waking vision : 

He saw himself, first, going back to the First 
Church in Raymond, living there in a simpler,, 
more self-denying fashion than he had yet been 
willing to live, because he saw ways in which he- 
could help others who were really dependent on 
him for help. He also saw, more dimly, that the- 
time would come when his position as pastor of the 
church would cause him to suffer more on account 
of growing opposition to his interpretation of Jesus- 
and His conduct. But this was vaguely outlined. 
Through it all he heard the words, “My grace is 1 
sufficient for thee.” 

He saw Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page 
going on with their work of service at the Rect- 
angle, and reaching out loving hands of helpful- 
ness far beyond the limits of Raymond. Rachel he 
saw married to Rollin Page, both fully consecrated 
to the Master’s use, both following His steps with 
an eagerness intensified and purified by their love 


298 


In His Steps. 

for each other. And Rachel’s voice sang on, in 
slums and dark places of despair and sin, and drew 
lost souls back to God and heaven once more. 

He saw President Marsh of the college using his 
great learning and his great influence to purify the 
city, to ennoble its patriotism, to inspire the young 
men and women who loved as well as admired him 
to lives of Christian service, always teaching them 
that education means great responsibility for the 
weak and the ignorant. 

He saw Alexander Powers meeting with sore 
trials in his family life, with a constant sorrow in 
the estrangement of wife and friends, but still 
going his way in all honor, serving in all his 
strength the Master whom he had obeyed, even 
nnto the loss of social distinction and wealth. 

He saw Milton Wright, the merchant, meeting 
with great reverses. Thrown upon the future by a 
combination of circumstances, with vast business 
interests involved in ruin through no fault of his 
own, but coming out of his reverses with clean 
Christian honor, to begin again and work up to a 
position where he could again be to hundreds of 
young men an example of what Jesus would do in 
business. 

He saw Edward Norman, editor of the News , by 
means of the money given by Virginia, creating a 
force in journalism that in time came to be recog- 
nized as one of the real factors of the nation to 
mold its principles and actually shape its policy, a 
daily illustration of the might of a Christian press, 
and the first of a series of such papers begun and 
earned on by other disciples who had also taken the 
pledge. 

He saw Jasper Chase, who had denied his Mas- 


299 


In His Steps. 

ter, growing into a cold, cynical, formal life, writ- 
ing novels that were social successes, but each one 
with a sting in it, the reminder of his denial, the 
bitter remorse that, do what he would, no social 
success could remove. 

He saw Rose Sterling, dependent for some years 
upon her aunt and Felicia, finally married to a man 
far older than herself, accepting the burden of a 
relation that had no love in it on her part, because 
of her desire to be the wife of a rich man and enjoy 
the physical luxuries that were all of life to her. 
Over, this life also the vision cast certain dark and 
awful shadows but they were not shown in detail. 

He saw Felicia and Stephen Clyde happily mar- 
ried, living a beautiful life together, enthusiastic, 
joyful in suffering, pouring out their great, strong, 
fragrant service into the dull, dark, terrible places 
of the great city, and redeeming souls through the 
personal touch of their home, dedicated to the 
Human Homesickness all about them. 

He saw Dr. Bruce and the Bishop going on with 
the Settlement work. He seemed to see the great 
blazing motto over the door enlarged, “What would 
Jesus do ?” and by this motto every one who entered 
the Settlement walked in the steps of the Master. 

He saw Burns and his companion and a great 
company of men like them, redeemed and giving 
in turn to others, conquering their passions by the 
divine grace, and proving by their daily lives the 
reality of the new birth even in the lowest and most 
abandoned. 

And now the vision was troubled. It seemed to 
him that as he kneeled he began to pray, and the 
vision was more of a longing for a future than a 
reality in the future. The church of Jesus in the 


300 


In His Steps. 

city and throughout the country! Would it fol- 
low Jesus ? Was the movement begun in Raymond 
to spend itself in a few churches like Nazareth 
Avenue and the one where he had preached to-day. 
and then die away as a local movement, a stirring 
on the surface but not to extend deep and far ? He 
felt with agony after the vision again. He thought 
he saw the church of Jesus in America open its 
heart to the moving of the Spirit and rise to the 
sacrifice of its ease and self-satisfaction in the name 7 
of Jesus. He thought he saw the motto, “What 
would J esus do ?” inscribed over every church door, 
and written on every church member’s heart. 

The vision vanished. It came back clearer than 
before, and he saw the Endeavor societies all over 
the world carrying in their great processions at 
some mighty convention a banner on which was 
written, “What would J esus do ?” And he thought 
in the faces of the young men and women he saw 
future joy of suffering, loss, self-denial, martyr- 
dom. And when this part of the vision slowly 
faded, he saw the figure of the Son of God beckon- 
ing to him and to all the other actors in his life his- 
tory. An Angel Choir somewhere was singing. 
There was a sound as of many voices and a shout as 
of a great victory. And the figure of Jesus grew 
more and more splendid. He stood at the end of a 
long flight of steps. “Yes ! Yes ! 0 my Master, 
has not the time come for this dawn of the millen- 
nium of Christian history? Oh, break upon the 
Christendom of this age with the light and the 
truth ! Help us to follow Thee all the way !” 

He rose at last with the awe of one who has 
looked at heavenly things. He felt the human 
forces and the human sins of the world as never 


301 


In His Steps. 

before. And with a hope that walks hand in hand 
with faith and love Henry Maxwell, disciple of 
Jesus, laid him down to sleep and dreamed of the 
regeneration of Christendom, and saw in his dream 
a church of Jesus without spot or wrinkle or any 
such thing, following him all the way, walking 
obediently in His steps. 


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